Semi Charmed Kind Of Life
by polly plummer
Summary: It's Prue's final year in high school, but things aren't quite going to plan, especially with Phoebe starting as a freshman, the new boy, and Grams getting more and more neurotic. AU.
1. So Long Sweet Summer

-1** Yes, I am back…after like two years or something (is graduate high school). Basically with Scars on the Heart…one of my older friends told me all about her abusive husband (she's divorced from him now), and it made me feel awful to hear it, and writing about it just makes me feel sick at the moment…I might go back to it when I can write it without thinking of her.**

**So Prue and Andy are in their senior year of high school, Piper is in her junior year, and Phoebe's a freshman. No Paige, I don't really know why, guess I wasn't thinking that much when I started. I kind of prefer it without her though, it works better. And they are not witches, or if they are then they don't know…they don't become witches during this though, although I couldn't resist mentioning it once or twice.**

**I don't know if this will have loads of Prue and Andy in it…I've already written quite a lot of this, but it's more about Prue really…which was an accident. But I like it anyway, because it sort of reminds me of something that happened to me a few years ago, back when I was still the cheerleading kind myself.**

**Obviously I do not own Charmed etc.**

**And I'm naming the chapters after songs by the way, and this song is by Dashboard Confessionals.**

* * *

**So Long Sweet Summer**

It's the first day of my senior year, and I've already been up and ready for an hour making sure everything is just perfect when Phoebe wanders into the kitchen still in her pajamas and looking very disheveled.

"Phoebe!" I exclaim at the sight of my disorganized little sister. "I woke you up almost half an hour ago and you've only just got up?!"

"I don't feel very well," Phoebe mumbles, lies I should say, and then proceeds to pour herself a bowl piled with Froot Loops.

"Phoebe, you say that every single day of the school year," I point out. "It's not going to start working now."

Phoebe sits down, scowling at me, her hair sticking up.

"I hate school," she says, spooning cereal into her mouth.

"Well you do make it difficult for yourself, don't you?" I say somewhat haughtily. "I hope this is going to be a new start for you, Phoebe. It's your first year of high school and it's time you started acting your age."

Phoebe rolls her eyes and begins to mimic me lecturing her just as Piper comes in. Piper snorts with laughter, and I feel my cheeks go red.

"Cut it out," I snap, "or you don't get a ride to school." Phoebe stops at this, knowing she'll never make the bus, and Piper obediently straightens her face too.

* * *

"So, this is a landmark, huh?" Phoebe says, trying to apply mascara to her eyelashes while I'm driving. "We're all in high school now!" Oh god, Phoebe in high school…this is asking for trouble. I hit a pothole and Phoebe's hand slips.

"Shit," she mutters, wiping at the black smudge just below her left eye.

"Phoebe!" I reprimand. A fourteen year old should not be swearing. In fact, she shouldn't be applying mascara on her first day of high school as far as I'm concerned.

"What?" She demands sulkily.

"And put that mascara away, please," I add.

I can see her rolling her eyes in the wing mirror, but at least she throws the mascara into her bag.

"Well I don't know what you're getting excited about," Piper mutters from next to me. She's slumped down in her seat with her elbow propped on the edge of the window, her chin resting in her hand as she stares miserably out of her window. I can practically see the black rain cloud over her head. "High school sucks," she adds.

"Oh come on Piper," I say brightly. "That's not true!"

Piper shoots me a look of disgust. "We're not at a pep rally now, Prue," she says cuttingly. "It's alright for _you_, little miss popular. Half the girls in the school want to be you, the other half want to at least be your friend, and most of the guys want to do you."

"Piper!" What is wrong with my sisters?!

"Well it's true," Piper mutters, staring back out the window again. "Your life's easy."

"Look," I say through gritted teeth. "We are all going to have a perfectly lovely year, okay? Nobody is going to get into trouble," I say, shooting Phoebe a look.

"What?" She says innocently.

"Nobody is going to wallow in self-misery thinking nobody wants to know her," and here I look at Piper, who looks like she's going to cry at this point. At my words she kicks the inside of the car in an uncharacteristic Piper gesture, and I'm sure she mutters 'Fuck off', but I can't be sure.

"We're all going to enjoy it, okay?" Nobody answers me, and I sigh loudly as I park the car.

Piper opens her door and reluctantly gets out, while Phoebe flings hers open and jumps out to look up at the entrance.

"Awesome!" I hear her mutter with a wide grin on her face.

"I've got cheer practice after school," I call after them as Piper slouches away and Phoebe practically skips away, "So you'll have to get the bus home!"

Neither of them show any sign of having heard me, and I get out and lock the car, and take a deep breath, ready to start my senior year.

* * *

I slide into my desk in homeroom. People may immediately start to flock around me, but Piper was wrong. It isn't easy for me, it's very hard. If anything, Piper's got it best. She can be pretty much invisible, but I've always got to put a front on, even when I'm having a lousy day, smiling at everyone, getting straight As (most of the time), not making any enemies.

Tom slings an arm around my shoulder.

"How's my favorite cheerleader?" He says with a smile, messing up my hair.

"She's very pissed off with you now," I say, shoving him off and smoothing my hair down.

"Ah, come on," Tome teases. "You know you love me really."

"We'll see who wins the first football game this year, won't we?" I say, and Tom punches my arm playfully.

"If we lose it's because _you_ weren't cheering hard enough," he responds without hesitation, and I allow myself to smile. People seem to think Tom and I are a sort of unofficial couple, which I suppose contributes to my popularity somewhat, seeing as he's the star of the football team, although we're only really friends. I went with him to prom last year because he'd just broken up with his girlfriend, and okay, I admit we've kissed a couple of times, but both times we'd both been drinking. It certainly didn't mean anything.

The classroom door opens, and several people look up expectantly, thinking Mr. Benson's finally arrived, but it's just a boy.

"Is this room 105?" He asks uncertainly, looking down at a piece of paper in his hand.

"It sure is," Tom says, and I can tell he's scrutinizing this newcomer, already deciding whether he's worthy or not of our friendship from the one sentence he's said and his appearance; he's tall with brown hair, pretty good-looking I guess, and he looks like he might play football too. "Mr. Benson's homeroom," Tom adds, and the boy nods.

"Thanks," he says, and begins to make his way to an empty desk near the back, but Tom steps in front of him.

"So you're new here?" He asks, flashing a brilliant smile at the boy.

"Yep," the boy says, looking pretty unconcerned and uninterested.

"Where'd you transfer from then?" Tom asks, feigning interest. I already know Tom's picked up the same things as I have, and he sees this boy as a threat.

"Washington," the boy replies.

"Oh wow," Tom says in a tone that appears friendly on the surface, but which I can recognize as sarcastic. The boy doesn't reply, and Tom doesn't step aside either.

"Can I get past?" The boy asks somewhat coolly. Perhaps he understands who Tom is, the school celebrity, everyone's golden boy. He must do, only someone like Tom would have the audacity to do this, or the motive.

"Tom," I mutter, feeling embarrassed on behalf of my group's behavior. "Drop it."

Tom looks at me and sighs.

"Only for you, darling" he says jokingly, stepping out of the boy's way to let him past, and I hope the boy doesn't think I'm Tom's girlfriend.

"Hmm, fresh meat," Tom mutters, sliding into his desk behind me. "Whaddya think, Halliwell?" He asks, poking me in the back, but thankfully I'm saved from answering him by the arrival of Mr. Benson.

* * *

I stop off at my locker before first period, and notice the new boy standing and looking confused a few lockers down from me. I debate whether I should offer to help him or not as I dump some notebooks in my locker. He screws up his schedule suddenly, in what I assume is frustration, and I slam my locker shut and walk over to him.

"Are you lost?" I ask him with a wide smile, and he spins around to face me. There's a flash of recognition on his face.

"You're the girl from homeroom, right?" He says.

"Uh, yeah," I say, still smiling, although I can feel it fading fast. He looks me up and down and catches sight of my cheerleader uniform in my arms.

"Figures," he says coolly.

"Excuse me?" I ask, thinking I must misunderstand him.

"Oh, it doesn't matter," he says casually, and I know I didn't misunderstand him.

"Fine," I say hotly, glaring at him. "If you don't want my help, you can get detention all by yourself!" I turn and storm off to my first class, not wanting to be late.

* * *

"Hey, Prue, I saw your little sister!" Tom says, almost jumping into his seat at our table. Several of the Tom's friends, guys from the football team snicker, and I've already assumed he means Phoebe. Tom acts like Piper doesn't exist.

"What?" I snap at them, irritated.

"She's quite something, huh?" Tom says, shoving some chips into his sandwich like it's normal for him to eat two parts of his lunch in one go.

"What are you talking about?" I say, thinking back to Phoebe this morning. Tom takes a huge bite of his sandwich, and makes gestures that I don't understand.

"What is that suppose to mean?" I say, imitating him.

Tom swallows, and says, "She's got detention already for a start."

"Detention?" Grams is going to be so pissed tonight, and I'm probably going to get the blame. "What for?! She's only been here for four hours!"

"She was rude to Mrs. Carlton when she told her her skirt was too short. Called her an old hag."

"She's not wearing a skirt," I start, thinking of Phoebe dressed conservatively (for her) in jeans this morning, but at that moment Phoebe herself walks into the cafeteria, and Tom's right, she _is_ wearing a skirt, a ridiculously short one, and she's surrounded by a gang of other freshmen, most of them looking a lot like her, scruffily dressed and like they're trouble.

"Oh great," I mutter. "Just great."

Start as you mean to go on, huh?

* * *

**Well I'm really nervous right now about this, so it would be nice if you reviewed…**

**And I'm probably going to change the title of this story, I just can't think of a better one right now (if you can, pleaser do suggest it).**


	2. Every Little Thing

**This Tom dude (_the fan of everything_****, you made me laugh!) is a friend of Prue's, they don't go out or anything. Thinking about it, he reminds me of this guy I know who goes to Berkeley, who is incidentally called Tom, although that was an accident…he regularly lifts up our skirts, pulls our tops down, tries to grope us, makes sexist comments and tries it on with us when we're drunk (yes, he does actually have a girlfriend too).**

**Littlemissbad, I don't know if I want the word Charmed in the title (I know it is right now, but I'm almost certiain that they won't be witches in this, even if Grams is and they don't know about it.)**

* * *

**Every Little Thing**

What with cheer practice after school, I'm exhausted by the end of the day. I always forget how tiring school is, all the smiling and socializing, not to mention the work. For the third time that day I wish I wasn't taking four AP classes. I throw my bag and books into the back of the car with a sigh, and go to get in. I glance down and notice the flat on the front tire by the driver's seat.

"Oh _crap_!" I yell angrily to the empty parking lot, kicking the tire as if that might magically fix it. I crouch down by the tire and inspect it closely, trying to see what the cause is.

"You piece of fucking junk," I mutter furiously to the car, finally finding a piece of glass lodged in it. I know I have a jack and spare tire in the boot, but they're really more for show than anything. I haven't got the faintest idea how to use them properly, and I give a loud cry of frustration.

"Need a hand?" Someone says in a bemused voice next to me and I jump, hitting my head on the wing mirror as I straighten up.

"_Fuck it_!" I shout, really losing my temper now. I spin around to see who spoke and my eyes rest on the boy from homeroom.

"Oh, it's _you_," I say, then remembering I'm still in my cheerleader uniform, add in a sarcastic tone, "It figures."

He smirks. "Well if you're okay, then I guess I'll be going." He starts to walk away.

"No, wait!" I call after him. I might not _want_ his help, but I probably need it. He stops and turns around with a smile.

"Thought so," he says, walking back and dropping his bag on the floor by my car so he can crouch down and look at it.

"There's a piece of glass," I say stupidly.

"Yeah, I can see that," he says, straightening up. "You got a spare?

"Yeah, in the back," I say and I walk slowly to the boot and retrieve the jack. He follows me and lifts the tire out for me.

I watch silently as he rolls up his sleeves and starts to jack up the car.

"I'm Andy, by the way," he says. I don't say anything.

"Haven't you got a name?" He asks, sounding amused, which is just about the most infuriating he could sound to me right now.

"Yeah, but it's none of your business," I snap.

"My my, we _are_ irritable today," he remarks, still sounding amused.

"I wonder why."

"Hey, I'm sorry about what I said this morning. I'm sure you and your boyfriend are very nice really, I probably just took what he said the wrong way this morning."

"He is not my boyfriend!" I exclaim, sick of this assumption by everyone.

"Oh, I just assumed…"

"You _assumed_," I say in disgust, then add, "And you didn't take it the wrong way, he does hate you." Hate's a bit strong. But he probably deserves it.

"Oh. I was kinda hoping I did." He rolls the flat tire off, carrying it to the boot, and glances at me in my pale blue and white uniform with the white B emblazoned on my chest. I feel like it's standing for bitch right now.

"Bad luck," I mutter sarcastically, and then realize I'm not being fair, I'm being like the rest of them because he's assumed I'm one of them. "Sorry," I say, sitting down next to him as he kneels down again. "I'm just pissy about the flat."

"That's alright," he says cheerfully.

"So when did you move here?" I ask, trying to be friendly.

"We only moved in two weeks ago," he says, screwing the tire on tightly.

"So I guess you don't like the school much so far," I comment.

"Why do you say that?" He asks, beginning to lower the car again.

"After this morning…I don't know, it's not the nicest way to start your first day at a new school."

"Suppose not," he says, not sounding too bothered. "But there are some okay people."

"Do you play football?" I ask suddenly, and he looks at me.

"I used to. Why'd you ask?"

I shrug. "No reason," I say, not wanting to tell him that to some extent he reminds me of Tom.

"Were you on the team at your old school?"

"Uh huh," he says as the car reaches the ground.

"Maybe you could try out here," I suggest as I stand up, although I'm not sure why.

He laughs and stands up too.

"I don't think so. Not if your…friend's on the team. Don't think I'd be welcome, do you?"

"It's not like Tom gets to decide," I say, feeling suddenly angry that Tom should get to monopolize everything in the school.

"Still…" He shrugs, dismissing it. "Well it's been nice meeting you again," he says, offering me his hand, now greasy from my tire. I look down at it, and he does too, then laughs and wipes it on his jeans and extends a now much cleaner hand, which I take. I'm surprised to feel him send a shiver up my arm, and somewhat embarrassed too, but he doesn't appear to notice.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," he says, letting go.

* * *

"Prudence!" Grams screeches from the sun room as soon as I shut the front door.

"Yeah?" I call, wanting to go up to my room and change, and maybe sleep before I get started on my homework.

"In here, now!"

I sigh and drop my stuff at the bottom of the stairs before heading to the sun room. Phoebe's sitting sulkily on the couch, back in her jeans from this morning.

"You're late," she snaps with a glare. Grams looks like one pissed witch.

"Sorry, I had a flat," I explain.

"Have you heard about your sister?" She demands, shooting Phoebe an appalled look.

"What about her?" I ask, although I have a pretty good idea.

"Don't be smart with me, young lady," Grams says icily.

"I wasn't-" I begin to protest, but she holds up a hand.

"How could you let her get detention on her first day of school?!"

"It wasn't my fault! I wasn't in her class! How was I suppose to stop her from saying that?"

"Why on earth did you let her leave this house in that…that _belt_ of a skirt?!"

"I didn't! She was wearing what she's wearing now! She must have changed or something…" Grams doesn't seem to be listening, so I trail off.

"I'm very disappointed in _both_ of you," she says, and I wonder why the hell I'm in trouble when I haven't done anything wrong. This day just gets lousier and lousier.

"Phoebe, you are grounded for two weeks," Grams says, and then looks at me. If she grounds me, I swear I'll flip… "Prue, I want you home every day right after school-" I open my mouth to say I have practice, but she continues "-or right after that ridiculous cheerleading you insist on doing, and I want your sister going with you every morning and afternoon. She can wait if you're staying late."

Grams hasn't explicitly said I'm grounded, but she might as well have. She just doesn't want me to blow a fuse.

"Are we done here?" I ask coldly. "I've got homework to do."

"We're done," Grams says, equally as cold. "But you'd better make sure she doesn't get into any more trouble, I'm warning you, Prudence."

I glower at Grams and flounce out of the room and up the stairs, snatching my bag on the way. Piper's sitting halfway down the stairs and she rises hurriedly when I pass her.

"What are you doing?" I snap, although I'm really more annoyed with Grams.

"Listening to you and Grams," she admits honestly. "I did try to tell her that it wasn't your fault, Prue, but she wouldn't listen."

I soften. "Thanks, Piper," I say. "How was your first day back?"

Piper makes a brave attempt at a smile. "Oh, it sucked," she says cheerfully.

Although I know Piper won't believe I had a crap day too, I mutter, "Join the club."

* * *

_**Every Little Thing **_**is by Dishwalla if anyone's interested!**


	3. If You Hate Your Friends

-1**Littlemissbad, I can see you're going to be a dedicated reviewer, and therefore I like you very much! I quite like Andy in this, because he isn't perfect. Normally I make him too perfect (unlike every guy I've ever met), but he isn't here.**

**I don't know why, but I found it really hard to do the second half of this. I left it out when I wrote this, so I've just spent the past few days struggling to recall all the parties I've been to. So basically, I am disappointed with this.**

**Also, from reading the hits/visitors thing (whatever it is) and who's added this to their alert list, I can see lots of you aren't reviewing! I know, I'm such a stalker.**

* * *

**If You Hate Your Friends, You're Not Alone**

"Morning, morning," Tom says, breezing in confidently, and even kissing me and several other girls on the cheek. "I must say, it's a wonderful morning today, isn't it?"

"What's up with you?" I ask suspiciously.

"Guess who's made captain!" Tom announces loudly. Arrogant bastard. I see Andy coming in out of the corner of my eye, but unlike yesterday, nobody cares. They're all too busy gloating over Tom, who's basking in the attention.

"Oh goody," I say sarcastically, irritated by the sight of Andy and the memory of yesterday. "Now you're captain of the cheerleaders we can spend a lot more time together!" He shoots a glare at me; guess he's not in the mood for joking when he thinks it might spoil his glory.

"You're captain?" Lora, another cheerleader, who likes Tom, a lot, squeals, along with several other people. The rest of the football team in our homeroom start clapping him on the back. I don't know why everyone's making such a big deal out of this. It's not like it's a surprise. We all knew cocky, self-assured Tom would be made captain.

"This calls for a celebration!" Tom announces. I can see where this is going. The obligatory party, which Tom's probably been planning for weeks, months maybe. "I'm having party on Friday night, a sort of combined back to school and making captain party."

Mr. Benson comes in, and people make their way to their desks, but Tom throws his arm around my shoulders.

"I hope my favorite cheerleader's going to be there," he murmurs in my ear. He must have guessed I'm pissed with him for something.

"I don't know," I say, thinking about Grams basically grounding me yesterday. Not that me going to a party on a Friday evening would have been on the cards anyway.

"Aw, come on, you know it won't be any fun without you!"

"Oh fine, you twisted my arm," I say, figuring I can talk Grams around. Or at least climb out my bedroom window.

* * *

"Tell Tom congratulations," Andy says, sitting down in the desk next to me in AP Literature. I'm surprised to see him. I suppose I didn't have him down as an AP kind of person. After all, Tom isn't. He's always mocking me over all the studying I do.

"What?" I ask in confusion.

"Well, I couldn't help but overhearing earlier…I don't think anyone could to be honest." I glare, and turn to face the front of the class, willing the teacher to get here.

"Jealous, are you?" I say loftily, opening my notebook, and he just laughs.

* * *

I did consider asking Grams if I could go out, but she was in such a foul mood at dinner that I figured it would be better, certainly easier, if I just sneaked out again. It's not like she'd have said yes to Tom's party anyway, although to be honest I'm not sure why I did either.

It's just like how I remember last year's parties; loud, dark and fuelled with alcohol. Sticking with this theme, I grab a shot of tequila from a table near the door. Knowing I have to drive home, it'll have to be my only one, but I down it anyway; it's supposed to last me, but I need it to get through this without losing it.

"Prue!" Before I know what's happened, Tom has grabbed my arm and is leading me through the kitchen and out into the garden.

"I _knew_ you wouldn't be able to resist a party, especially one of mine…" He's standing too close to me for me to relax.

"Well I can't stay long…I have to get home."

"Why?" He asks, innocently enough I suppose, swallowing some more beer from a can in his hand.

"My…my grandmother…" Doesn't know I'm out? Get real, Prue. "She's not very well. I feel bad leaving Piper and Phoebe there alone."

"They'll be fine," Tom drawls, sitting down on a wall, and pulling me down too.

I let the loud music thump through my head, and take in the couples all around, making out, their hands all over each other, wishing I could have more tequila.

This really isn't me. Why aren't I at home studying or something?

"Prue!" Tom snaps, and I realize he's been speaking to me.

"Sorry. What?" I turn to face him.

"Sometimes you're so…" He trails off.

"So _what_?" I demand, feeling my anger rise.

"Weird," Tom says with exasperation.

"_Weird_?" I repeat, enraged, and I stand up. "It's better than being a complete dick!"

Tom smirks.

"That wasn't a compliment!" I add. How stupid is he?!

Tom continues to smile in his smug, self-satisfied way, and I give a cry of frustration and storm off, heading for the front door.

I knock into someone just as I reach the front door and the drink they're holding goes all over my top.

"Sorry…" The guy tries to say, as I pull my top away from me in disgust, the whole front of it soaked with beer. I just glare and push past him. Tom's friends are just as annoying as him, and just as stupid.

The drive home requires loud and angry music and I shove in a CD and roll down the windows.

I hate Tom sometimes, I really do.

* * *

"Prudence!" The front door opens. The light from inside is so bright in contrast to the inky night that I can only see a dark silhouette of the person standing there, but I know it's Grams from that shrill shriek she just let out to pass for my name that sets my teeth on edge.

Oh crap.

"Um, hi Grams," I say casually, like I haven't just been caught doing anything wrong.

"_Hi Grams_?" She echoes contemptuously. "Where have you been?"

"Out. I mean, I went to…" The library, my usual excuse, is shut…"A study group," I say finally, quite possibly the lamest excuse I could come up with.

"Do you think I was born yesterday?" She asks, narrowing her eyes and putting her hands on her hips. "I can tell you're lying to me."

"But I-"

"Why did you sneak out then?" Okay, she's got me there, and she knows it. "Just get inside, Prudence," she says in a weary tone, and I slouch in. "I told you specifically that you weren't allowed out after what happened with Phoebe, yet you continue to disobey me! What kind of an example do you think you're setting for your sisters?"

"A _normal_ one?" I retort, losing my temper. "You can't keep us locked up here forever!"

Grams' eyes flash dangerously. "I'm not keeping you locked up, I'm doing what's best for you. Five years from now you'll be thanking me."

"For what? _Screwing_ me up?! I'm going to college next year, what do you think you're going to do then?!"

"College?" Grams spits. "You're not going to college."

"_What_?"

"I said you're not going."

"It's not up to you! If I want to go then I'm going to go!"

Grams steps closer to me and raises her hand, and for one absurd moment I think she's going to hit me, but instead she grabs onto my top and frowns at it.

"What's this on your top?"

I look down at the still-very-wet-with-beer top.

"Is this alcohol?" She demands, and when I don't answer, she shakes me. "Is it?"

"It's not mine, it was some boy's-"

"Oh what a surprise," she says, letting go of my top and pushing me away. "There were boys at wherever you've been."

"It's not like I has sex with them for god's sake," I mutter under my breath.

"_Excuse_ me?" Grams says, her face livid. Now might be a good time to leave.

"Nothing…"

"How dare you answer back to me!" She says in a dangerously low voice. "In my own house!" She pauses, shaking her head at me, and then shouts, "I'm sick of the sight of you! Just go to your room!"

I start to head towards the stairs.

"Keys, Prudence," she says, stopping me in my tracks.

"What?" I ask in disbelief, turning around.

"Give me your car keys. You'll get them in the mornings before school, and I'll take them as soon as you get home. You are _not_ leaving this house again without my permission."

"You're crazy," I mutter, pulling my keys from my pocket and throwing them into her outstretched hand.

Good thing I've got the spares.

* * *

_**If You Hate Your Friends**_** is by Pretty Girls Make Graves.**


	4. Romance Is A Slowdance

-1**I didn't like the last chapter very much (I also can't remember even uploading it, but apparently I did), so I was rather surprised to open my email and have lots of emails!**

**Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed, it spurred me on! By the way _TaylorxxTwihard_, awesome name!**

**This one's really short, but I didn't really want to write anymore just to make it longer when it starts and ends where I want it to. But also, I'm going away on vacation in a few days so probably no updates until almost the end of this month!**

* * *

**Romance is a Slowdance**

"Why is it that you're in _three_ of my classes?" I demand with a glare as he sits next to me in Biology, a class I'm being forced to take to actually graduate at the end of this year; I'm short on science credits.

He shrugs. "What can I say? I guess I'm just that lucky."

"_Lucky_," I spit back in disgust. "Well you don't have to sit next to me, _do_ you?"

"I don't have to, no, but I do it because it annoys you."

"It does not annoy me," I mutter, turning to face the front and opening my notebook to a fresh page. "_You_ annoy me."

"Anyway, if I sit here, we might, we just _might_ get to be lab partners," he says, putting on a mock-hopeful voice, and then laughing at my face.

I shoot him a look of hatred. "You'll regret it if we are," I warn him.

"Oh come on, you're the only person I really know here at the moment! The least you could do to welcome me graciously is to let me sit with you…"

I can hear his mocking tone, and it really annoys me. I can't stand people making fun of me. I turn away from him as much as I can.

* * *

"Want some help?" Andy asks, swiftly catching the folder as I drop.

"Thanks," I say through gritted teeth. Why did it have to be _him_ helping me?

He begins flicking through the file as we walk to my car.

"Hey, that's _private_," I snap, although I can't exactly take it away from him because my hands are full.

"Do you do photography?" He asks, looking at the photos. I don't know why I don't want him looking at my photos, but I always get defensive when people look at them, even my sisters. I feel like they're reading my diary or something.

"Yeah, do you _mind_?" I snap, as he scrutinizes a black and white photo I took of Phoebe that she doesn't know about (because she refuses to let me photograph her normally), in which she's sitting on the swing in the garden, a remnant of our youth, wearing a dress, staring up at the sky and looking very melancholy and innocent for Phoebe.

"This is _good_," he says, sounding surprised and a little impressed.

"Thanks, but stop looking at them, _please_!"

He looks up. "Seeing as you asked so nicely," he says, shutting the folder just as we reach my car. I drop the rest of my stuff onto the ground and snatch the folder from him before I've even unlocked my car.

He looks taken aback as I pull my keys from my pocket and unlock the car to put the folder on the backseat before I deal with the rest of the stuff, including my camera.

"Hey, so I guess you're going to be at homecoming," Andy says, watching me throw my bag in unceremoniously, "what with you being a cheerleader and everything. I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. I know you've probably already got a date and-"

"Homecoming?" I cut him off. I hope Tom wasn't planning on going with me like prom last year, or boy will he be pissed. But prom was a last minute thing, so I suppose it's okay.

"Yeah, you know, that big football match, the dance, voting for a king and queen…"

"I _know_ what homecoming is," I say, annoyed. "I just want to know why you're asking _me_."

"Well I didn't really think you'd agree," he starts with a mocking smile. "Too controversial for your group and everything…you wouldn't want to upset any of them."

"They've got nothing to do with who I go with!" I say irately. "I'll go with who I like!"

He shrugs, and says, "Sure you will," as if he doesn't believe me.

"Fine, I'll go with you," I say, to prove I don't care what the rest of them say, although part of me can see his trap which I've just stepped into rather willingly.

* * *

_**Romance is a Slowdance**_** is by Atticus, I think, can't really remember. This song actually fits too, not just with the title, like the others.**


	5. You And Your Friend

**This would have been updated sooner, only I got chicken pox (or possibly poison ivy, the doctor doesn't actually know, which is weird), the day after I got back from vacation. Apparently it's a total lie that you can only get chicken pox once, it can happen more than once if you're that unlucky. Which I am.**

**And I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but I can't seem to get it right so this'll have to do.**

**You And Your Friend**

"So, homecoming, Pruey, you got a dress picked yet?" Tom's leaning back lazily in his chair across the lunch table from me, barely looking at me.

"A dress? Not yet. Why?"

"I wanna know what color corsage to get you," he says, as if it's obvious.

"Why?" I ask dumbly, and he looks at me with irritation.

"So it can match your dress, you dumbass!" Well now I'm just pissed.

"But we're not going together," I say. "You haven't asked."

"As if I need to ask," Tom responds, and I hate him at that moment for his utter arrogance.

"Of course you do," I snap. "How else will I know you're going with me?"

"We always go to these things together," he says. Since when?

"Someone already asked me," I say, "and I said yes."

"Who?" Tom asks, sitting up and looking interested in me for the first time since this stupid conversation started.

I hesitate. "Andy." Tom looks blank. "You know, the-"

"The jackass in _homeroom_?" He says incredulously as he realizes. "But you didn't say yes?!"

"Yep," I reply as calmly as possible.

"You don't even know him!"

"Yeah I do. He's in loads of my classes."

"Well you can just tell him no," Tom says with a scowl.

"No. I already said yes."

"So what?" He says. "You can say no!"

"Why is this such a problem for you?" I ask. "Just about every girl in the school will go with you if you ask! Ask Lora! She's dying for you to go with her!"

"I don't want Lora, I want you," he says with a dark look.

"You can't always have everything you want," I say, just because I know normally Tom _does_ get what he wants.

Tom spends the next few days being decidedly cold with me, despite the fact he's asked Lora, who gladly agreed to be his date. By the third day I'm pretty sick of it.

"Hey Tom," I say, standing by his desk.

"Hi," he says coolly, looking in the opposite direction from me as if he's never seen anything more interesting than that desk next to his.

"So I heard Lora said yes."

"Of course she did. You'd be _crazy_ to say no." He turns to look at me, pointedly I might add.

"Come on Tom, I'm sorry I'm not going with you. I didn't realize you wanted to go with me. Of course I'd have said yes if you asked first! I just don't want to go back on my word!"

"Why do you always have to be so decent?" He mutters. "I thought cheerleaders were suppose to be bitchy." He slides a hand around my waist and pulls me onto his lap, so I know I'm forgiven. "You should have waited anyway. You can do so much better than him."

I pointedly ignore this comment.

"Do you wanna catch a movie later?" He asks, and I hesitate. It's probably not a good idea to say no to him again. I guess I'll be climbing out my window again tonight.

"Sure," I reply. "What are we seeing?"

He shrugs. "I dunno. We can decide when we get there, can't we, my darling Prue?"

I slide off his lap as Mr. Benson comes in.

I'm surprised to find Andy leaning against the door of my car after school.

"Hi," I say. "What's up?"

"I don't know," he says in a tone that clearly suggests he does know. "Why don't you tell me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say rooting around for my keys, not in the mood for another argument with someone over something ridiculous and trivial.

"You don't have to come with me if you don't want," he says, looking annoyed,

"Come with you where?"

"Homecoming!"

I open my mouth to ask him what the hell he's talking about, when he says, "Have you forgotten we're in homeroom together or something?!"

"What are you-"

"'Oh, Tom," he says, putting on a high voice. "Of _course_ I'd have gone with you if you'd asked me first! I just don't want to go back on my word!' Why is every girl in this school part of his goddamn fan club?! Can't any of you see what an arrogant stuck-up bastard he is?"

That is so not what I said. "Andy, I was just trying to appease him! He hasn't spoken to me for days!"

"So what?" Andy mutters darkly. "What were you going to do to make it up to him, have sex with him?"

"What is _that_ suppose to mean?" I demand.

"Sitting on him with your arms around his neck, looking adoringly at him!"

"Well it isn't like _we're_ going out!" I point out. "You're overreacting!"

"Overreacting when you sit on Tom's lap, saying behind my back that you don't want to go with me. I don't think so. I thought you were different from the rest of them, but you're not, you're just the same."

"Andy! I _do_ want to go with you, much more than I want to go with Tom! I'm _glad_ you asked me first! Tom's just so arrogant that he assumes everyone's falling at his feet!"

Andy looks suddenly guilty.

"I'm sorry," he says, frowning intently at the ground. "I don't know why I said that. You're perfectly within your right to sit on him, and to not want to go to homecoming with me-"

"I do want to go with _you_! And I'd much rather sit on you any time!" He looks up at me, and then laughs, stepping closer.

"How about you sit on me tonight?" He says. "We'll go see a movie…"

I wonder if he overheard Tom ask me to see a movie too, and if he's trying to test where my loyalties lie.

"Well I already have plans," I say, "but I guess I could cancel." His hand's resting on my hip, sending that electric spark through me like the time we shook hands. I'll tell Tom I'm sick.

"Excellent. I'll pick you up at seven."

"Okay. But don't knock on the front door," I add hurriedly, and he raises his eyebrows. "I don't want my grandmother to know," I explain. "She's been pretty pissed off with me recently, and her seeing you is the last thing I need. I'll sneak out."

Andy shoots me a strange look, but I chose to ignore it.

_**You And Your Friend **_**is by Snake River Conspiracy. I think it was actually in Charmed, because the band appeared in the show.**

**Also, I don't know about the next few weeks because I'm moving to college in two weeks, which is basically a nightmare at the moment, so it could be a few weeks until I update again.**


	6. The Homecoming Song

_**My absolute favorite chapter for sure, rather long, and just about as bad as my own homecoming, although for different reasons.**_

_**I did consider writing about their date, but in the end I just didn't.**_

**_

* * *

_****__**_**The Homecoming Song**_

"_Prue, you look great!" Piper exclaims, looking over her shoulder from the couch. Grams turns around too, and looks me up and down disapprovingly, not because of my outfit, but because she doesn't want me to go._

"_Yes, you look very nice," she says unconvincingly. "What time does this dance end?"_

"_Eleven-forty-five," I answer, and immediately wonder why I didn't lie. Now she's going to expect me home by midnight._

"_And what time are __you_ leaving?" She asks, raising her eyebrows. Piper looks back at the TV fixedly, sensing the argument that's sure to be about to ensue.

"Uh, eleven-forty-five," I answer; isn't it obvious?

"I'd really prefer it is you left earlier," Grams starts, but I hold up a hand to stop her.

"I'm leaving when the dance ends," I say, "no earlier, no later." I mean, what does she think I'm going to say to Andy? 'Oh, I'd better go, my psychotic grandmother wants me home'? I don't think so.

Grams opens her mouth to say something else, but I speak first. "I'll wait outside," I snap, not wanting to hear anymore from Grams tonight. She's putting me in a bad mood. As I shut the door and turn around to go down the steps, I bash into someone.

"Phoebe," I exclaim in surprise, and Phoebe stares at me guiltily, caught in the act. "What are you doing?" I ask impatiently, surveying her outfit, a black strapless dress that stops mid-thigh and stilettos, and her make-up, her eyes heavily lined.

"Homecoming," Phoebe says uncertainly, looking me up and down too, taking in my own black dress which reaches just below my knees.

"You can't go to homecoming, you're not even fifteen yet."

"A senior invited me," Phoebe says defiantly, although I catch a flash of fear in her eyes.

"Who?!" I demand, and Phoebe looks away. "Phoebe, which senior?!" I grab her arm roughly and pull her around to face me.

"Cole Turner," Phoebe mutters reluctantly.

"_Phoebe_! You can't go!"

"Oh really?" Phoebe says with a defiant glare.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice you there? You _knew_ I was going!"

"Of course I knew you were going, you go to _every_ school event, but I thought you'd be too wrapped up in your own friends and date to notice me…"

"Too wrapped up in my friends?" I repeat incredulously. "Phoebe, just get back in the house, _now_!"

"You can't make me," Phoebe snaps, wrenching her arm free. "You aren't my mother."

That feels like a slap in the face, and I don't know why. "Phoebe, just get inside. Grams is going to kill us _both_ if she finds out!"

"Whatever," Phoebe mutters, turning away from me.

"Why are you so _selfish_? You _know_ she'll blame me!"

"I'm not selfish!" Phoebe shouts at me, clenching her fists and looking daggers at me. "You're the selfish one! You're only worried about the fact that _you'll_ get into trouble! Don't you want me to have a good time?!"

"Phoebe, I'm not discussing this with you any longer! If you don't get inside now, I'm going to tell Grams myself!"

"You wouldn't dare!" Phoebe says with a gasp.

"Do you really want to try me?" I threaten.

"I _hate_ you!" Phoebe hisses. "If you tell Grams then _neither_ of us is going to homecoming. I'll tell her that you got Cole to ask me, that you came with me to get my dress and that I was going to go with you and your date."

"Grams won't believe that," I say with irritation. Although she probably would.

"Do you really want to risk it?" Phoebe asks, a smug smile settling on her face.

"I can't believe _you're_ my sister sometimes," I tell her furiously. "You're the complete opposite to me! You make my life a living hell!"

"Thank _God_ I'm the complete opposite!" Phoebe says, raising her voice again. "You're just a stuck-up, arrogant, slutty _bitch_!" She shouts.

Someone coughs behind me and I spin around.

"Uh, hi Prue," Andy says, looking very uncomfortable.

All I can do it mutter "Hi," back. At least Phoebe has the grace to look sheepish that he overheard what she said. _Shouted_. I wonder just how long he's been standing there.

"So, this is your sister?" He asks eventually, looking at Phoebe.

"Yeah."

"Piper, right?" He says to Phoebe, who looks insulted. Piper _is_ currently watching Carrie alone in her room, to be fair.

"No," Phoebe informs him. "Phoebe."

"Oh, I thought you were a freshman…" He looks at me in confusion and I just roll my eyes and look away. Let Phoebe explain it herself.

"I am," Phoebe says in an irritated tone. "I'm going with Cole Turner."

"Oh…right," Andy says and there's another long, awkward silence.

"Let's just go," I say to Andy, grabbing his arm and pulling him down the steps. He glances back at Phoebe.

"Shouldn't we wait for Cole to get here or something…?"

"No," I say shortly. "Phoebe can look after herself."

And even if she can't, she sure doesn't want _me_ doing it for her.

* * *

The first half an hour couldn't be more awkward, both of us trying to make small talk which dwindles out after a few exchanges. I'm preoccupied with Phoebe, what Andy heard her say, and what Grams is going to say when she finds out Phoebe came to homecoming and I knew.

The fact that Tom, Lora and several of the others keep looking in our direction, whispering and then laughing also doesn't help.

"Do you want a drink?" Andy asks eventually, probably to break the depressing silence.

"Oh, yeah, thanks," I say too enthusiastically, relieved that I'll have a couple of minutes relief from this nightmare.

"I'll be right back." He disappears and I sigh. Phoebe still hasn't got here and now I'm feeling guilty about leaving her and hoping Andy hasn't noticed her absence, although part of me is also hoping she decided not to come. Unfortunately the fact that Cole isn't here yet either suggests otherwise.

"Well hello Prue. You're looking…amazing tonight."

"Hi Tom," I say, repressing a sigh.

"You look like you're having an _excellent_ time," he says with a smirk.

"I am actually," I lie.

"Bet you're regretting not coming with me _now_!"

"Where's Lora?" I ask, irritated by his arrogance. I can't believe Phoebe thinks _I'm_ arrogant.

"Bathroom," he says, rolling his eyes. "For the third time. What the hell do you girls do in there anyway?"

"Discuss you…" I start, and then spot Phoebe coming in with Cole who's arm is around her waist. "I've got to go," I mutter, walking towards her, but Tom grabs my arm.

"Hey, can I at least have a dance, even if you refused to actually come with me?"

"Prue." Andy's back with the punch, looking very annoyed and I look between him, Tom and Phoebe. If God exists then he sure hates me right now.

I shake Tom off me. "Oh look, Lora's looking for you…" I point in her direction, and Tom drifts off as Andy hands me the cup.

"Listen, I'm just going to go speak to Phoebe," I tell him, turning back in the direction I last saw her.

"Uh, I don't think now's a good time for her," he says.

"What?"

He nods and I follow his gaze to where Phoebe is kissing Cole.

"I'm going to _kill_ her," I hiss, storming off in her direction, but Andy catches my wrist.

"Leave her," he says, and he sounds annoyed. "She's only going to be angrier with you."

"So you heard what she said earlier then?" I say accusingly, crossing my arms.

"It was kinda hard not to…" He admits.

"How much did you hear?" I demand.

"I don't know…just you telling her she makes your life hell, and what she said about you being…well you know."

"This is just great," I mutter to myself.

"What is?"

"Now you think I'm a bitch, and my sister's a…" I trail off. How am I suppose to end that sentence without sounding even worse? "You thought she was Piper for god's sake!"

"Well she looked a lot older than fourteen!" He defends himself. "And I don't think you're a bitch…I'm sure siblings fight all the time, and anyway, what Phoebe said was pretty bad too."

"A fourteen year old freshman should not be climbing out her window to go to a school dance with a senior…" I trail off, shaking my head and covering my eyes in something like despair.

"Miss Halliwell…" I turn around to see the vice principal, Mr. Carter, looking uncomfortable. "Could you kindly have a word with your sister?" He asks with a disapproving look in Phoebe's direction. And who can blame him? I'm surprised neither she nor Cole hasn't passed out yet from lack of oxygen. Quite a lot of people are staring at them too.

I don't answer him, but head over to Phoebe and literally rip her away from Cole. She stumbles back in confusion.

"Prue…" She begins, looking angry. That's nothing compared to how I feel.

"Come with me, _now_." I drag her to the bathroom and push her inside. Several girls are in there and I just glare at them until they leave.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" I demand, shaking her slightly. "They're going to throw you out for inappropriate behavior, and then they'll call Grams! Is that what you want?!"

"No," Phoebe mutters, and I realize I can smell alcohol on her.

"Have you been _drinking_?" I ask in horror.

"Just a little bit," Phoebe says, holding her hand up to indicate. "Really, it was only a couple of sips!"

"Oh my god," I whisper, gripping the edge of the nearest sink tightly. But what am I suppose to do? It's not like she's going to listen to me anyway. "Phoebe, please just stay out of trouble for the rest of the evening, okay? You've already ruined my evening."

Phoebe leaves without another word and after several seconds I reluctantly follow her out.

"I guess I should have let you stop her sooner," Andy says as I collapse into a chair next to him.

"She'd have done it anyway…" I mumble, resting my head in my hands.

The music stops and Principal O'Connor comes up onto the stage and everyone turns to look.

Why now?

"Could I have your attention for a minute?" He asks, tapping the microphone uncertainly. "The nominations have been counted…this year's homecoming queen is Alice Chamberlain!" Everyone cheers. Oh thank god. Maybe the universe doesn't entirely hate me, because the last thing I need tonight is having to go up on that stage and smile and act like half the school _didn't_ just see my freshman sister make out with a senior.

Andy pats my shoulder like I'm upset.

"And the homecoming king is…Tom Christensen!" The cheers are far louder than Alice's, mainly because the football team are all drumming their hands on the tables, stamping their feet and whistling loudly. Tom actually bows as the crown is placed on his head, and I want to gag.

A slow song comes on and couples start to make their way to the dance floor. I just want to cry.

"Let's dance," he suggests leading me to the dance floor before I can protest and wrapping his arms around me.

"This is a disaster," I admit, i.e. my worst homecoming _ever_. Thank _god_ I'm not homecoming queen.

"There's always Prom queen," he says reassuringly.

"Not the nomination, you idiot, the rest of the dance!"

Andy doesn't answer, and I realize I've probably made him feel really bad. At least I can't see his face, only his hair, shoulder and back.

"It's not _your_ fault," I add hurriedly.

"Well that's good to know, Prue" he says laughing, "Although I'd assumed you didn't mean that anyway."

Why can I not just shut up? Or at least _think_ before I open my mouth? I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, comforting myself with the thought that it'll all be over soon.

"Listen, let's take your sister home," Andy says, watching Phoebe and Cole laughing together. Cole is clearly flirting with her, and I scowl at them.

"Yeah, I suppose we have to…" I say with a sigh. The last thing I want is Phoebe high-jacking the only alone time I'm going to get with Andy tonight, but I have to make sure she gets home okay, if only to stop Grams from finding out she was ever out in the first place. And obviously a very small part of me still cares what happens to my baby sister, even if she's proven tonight that she's not exactly a baby anymore.

We both walk over to her and Cole, and I grab Phoebe roughly. Andy smiles uncomfortably at Cole, who looks annoyed by my interruption.

"Phoebe, we're leaving," I inform her.

"Bye then," Phoebe says, glaring pointedly at me.

"_With_ you," I say witheringly. Phoebe opens her mouth to protest. "No, Phoebe, you're coming with us," I say firmly before she can. "No arguments."

Surprisingly, Phoebe mutters "Bye," to Cole, and allows me to drag her off.

"Stay away from my sister!" I call over my shoulder to Cole as an afterthought.

"_Prue_," Phoebe hisses.

"He's too old for you, and too much of a bad influence."

Phoebe snorts. "No more than _you_."

"Meaning?" I ask as we hit the cold night air.

"A cheerleader?" Phoebe says contemptuously. "One who climbs out her window all the time, has had a string of boyfriends who are equally as mean as her, and who treats half the school like they don't exist because they're below her social status? Not to mention that time Chris climbed up into your bedroom last year." Which you just did mention, Phoebe, thanks.

I feel my face redden at Andy's presence next to me.

"Have you been spying on me?" I demand, digging my nails into her arm, hard.

"No," Phoebe mutters sulkily, wriggling to get away from my grip. "It's not my fault he threw a stone at my window first, or that I happen to see you driving off when I know you haven't told Grams you're going out. Where'd you think _I_ learned it from?!"

"Phoebe, you did not learn it from me! You'd have done it anyway!"

"Well we'll never know now," she says, shooting a glance at Andy to see how he's taking all this.

We stop at his car and I push Phoebe into the backseat sharply.

"Just try and keep your mouth shut for fifteen minutes," I hiss at her as Andy climbs into the driver's seat, and then climb into the passenger seat.

"So Andy," Phoebe drawls from the back seat as soon as I've shut my door, and I turn around to try to kill her with my glare.

Phoebe smirks at me. "You're new this year?"

"Uh, yeah," Andy answers, looking unsure about what's going on.

"Wow," Phoebe says. "Where did you move from?"

"Washington," he replies politely.

"Don't listen to her," I say. "You don't have to answer her stupid questions."

"So how long have you and Prue been…" She trails off expectantly.

"I don't know," he says. "A few weeks."

"Wow, that long?" She says, feigning surprise. "What is that, a record, Prue?"

"Just shut up, Phoebe. Nobody cares what you have to say."

"So have you two…you know…"

"What?" Andy prompts her. It's always a mistake to encourage her.

"Had sex," Phoebe says casually.

"Uh…" Andy looks really uncomfortable now.

"_Phoebe_!" I snap, beginning to lose my temper.

"_No_?" Phoebe asks in an incredulous tone. "Normally she puts out after the first week, but maybe-"

"_Phoebe_!" I yell at the top of my voice, although this is probably making me look more guilty. "Would you just _shut up_? It's not like he's going to fall for this," I add, hoping he isn't; I don't really think I can look at him right now.

"What?" Phoebe says innocently. "Did I say something wrong?"

"My god, Phoebe, nobody is seriously going to fall for that innocent little girl act, especially if they saw how you behaved tonight! You're _fourteen_!"

"Almost fifteen-"

"That is not the point, Phoebe! You're practically a child!"

"Well like I said, I learnt it all from you-"

"What are you trying to achieve?!" I demand, incensed, my hands aching to slap her. "It isn't like you haven't done enough damage tonight already! Just quit it!"

I wish we'd just left her there to get raped or murdered or whatever. She's so _infuriating_!

Phoebe slumps back in her seat, folds her arms across her chest and scowls out the window, and we spend the rest of the journey home in silence.

As we pull up outside the house, Phoebe jumps out.

"Thanks for the ride," she mumbles to Andy, and disappears into the night, probably to climb back into her window.

"I am so sorry," I mumble, covering my face with my hand.

"What for?"

"Phoebe…I guess she was just trying to get back at me for embarrassing her in front of Cole and everything…" And everything.

"It's alright," he says, and I feel his hand pulling mine from my eyes. I grudgingly look at him. "And I didn't believe what she said either, if that's what you're worried about."

"Good," I say unenthusiastically. Realizing that Andy's planning on kissing me, I blurt out "I'd better go." I pull my hand away and climb out. "Um, thanks for tonight. It was…interesting."

I slam the car door shut and I run up the steps before he can say anything else.

Grams isn't up, and the manor's in darkness as I let myself in. she could have at least left a light on for me. I feel my way across the hall to the stairs, stub my toe on the bottom step, and swear under my breath.

I have never been so relieved at an evening being over, and flop on my bed. The door opens, and Piper comes in.

"How was the dance?" Piper asks, sitting down on my bed.

I bury my head in my pillow and wail. "It was just like Carrie, Piper!"

"Someone threw pig's blood over someone?" Piper asks, perking up considerably.

"_No_! I meant the complete public humiliation!"

"Of who?" She says, still sounding brighter than normal.

"_Me_!"

"Oh…"

"Phoebe completely and utterly ruined my entire evening!"

"Phoebe? Prue, you can't really blame Phoebe when she wasn't even there-"

I shoot Piper a look that could kill. "Yes she was, and I damn well can blame her. She climbed out her window, called me stuck-up and arrogant and slutty in front of Andy, she drunk before she got there, she turned up with a senior, she basically made-out with him in front of _everyone_, and Mr. Carter had to ask me to stop her before they threw her out!"

Piper just stares at me.

"But I thought she was in her room!" She says finally. "She said she had a headache and was going to bed!"

I snort in disbelief. "To top it all off, Andy and I had to take her home, because god only knows what she'd have done if she'd left with Cole…and then she basically told Andy I was a terrible influence on her, and that I was a whore!"

"Oh…" Piper says, staring at me with her mouth open. "You should have watched Carrie with me," she adds in a told-you-so voice. "We could have been bitter and angry together."

I roll my eyes.

"I just want to curl up and die right now, Piper."

"Okay, I'll just go to bed then," Piper says hurriedly, standing up. She hesitates by the door. "Don't be too hard on Phoebe, Prue. I don't think she meant to screw things up for you quite so royally."

"Piper. If she ever even thinks about talking to me again, I am going to strangle her."

* * *

_**The Homecoming Song **_**was definitely in Charmed, middle of season two, and it's by Owsley.**

**And I hate college, so if you reviewed it might make me feel better. Hate is a bit strong, but it's pretty boring here.**


	7. Bad Reputation

**I'm sorry it's taken me so ridiculously long to update, but I've been so busy with school etc. And unfortunately, despite the length of time it's taken me to write it, this is both a pretty short and pretty crappy chapter. Just look at it as a filler. I can't get away with not writing about the aftermath, but I don't particularly want to.**

**Okay, review replies, very long, skip if you want…unless you reviewed.**

**Littlemissbad: Thank you for your review! You're always so prompt! You really motivate me to carry on with this, because I'm usually so bad at carrying stuff on.**

**TaylorxxTwihard: I'm majoring in Classics. And I know what you mean about finding the time! I get emails telling me someone's updated a story and think 'Oh, I'll just read it later' and later turns into several weeks later!**

**Le Demarreur du Feu: Your review made me smile so much! And I know, I am being hard on Phoebe!**

**Lydi Gomistan: I should have put that in the summary, it is AU. They didn't know each other when they were kids in this, and they aren't witches in this, but you can believe Grams is if you want to, because I do keep making references to witchcraft in connection to her.**

**Xcgirl3: Thank you for reviewing and I'm sorry I didn't update sooner!**

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**

**Bad Reputation**

After the nightmare that was homecoming, I am not looking forward to school this morning, but being at home with Phoebe and Grams is so much worse. I haven't spoken to Phoebe all weekend, not that she's even tried to speak to me, or, you know, maybe apologize. Poor Piper keeps trying to get us to talk to one another, but it's just not happening. Phoebe went too far this time.

"You could have given Phoebe a ride too," Piper says reproachfully from the passenger seat, and I shoot her a look.

"Piper, until she apologizes, I'm not even going to look at her, let alone talk to her."

Piper shakes her head next to me, but I'm only being honest. I couldn't hate Phoebe more right now.

* * *

"So Friday didn't really go to plan," Andy whispers to me in AP U.S History.

"No, not quite" I whisper back sarcastically. Phoebe's probably already screwed things up so there's not much point in being nice. Mrs. Brixton looks up and frowns at me for talking, and I jab my pen angrily into the open page of my notebook on which all I've scrawled so far is the day, Monday, and try to concentrate.

Which doesn't work.

"Prue?" I jump and look up, feeling my face go red.

"Sorry?" I say faintly. Mrs. Brixton is standing a few feet from my desk looking at me expectantly. Everyone is looking at me, so she must have said my name a good few times.

Mrs. Brixton clicks her tongue impatiently. "See me after class," she says.

I don't make any notes for the rest of the class. I mean, what's the point?

At the end I pack up my stuff along with everyone else, hoping that Mrs. Brixton will forget, but she doesn't, indicating that I should wait until everyone else leaves.

"How are things, Prue?" She asks, sitting on the edge of her desk and crossing her arms as the last few stragglers leave.

"Great," I say enthusiastically, my automatic response to that question no matter who asks it.

"And how is Phoebe, after homecoming?" Does the whole world know about my sister being a slut?

"Oh, um, she's…she's fine." At least I assume she is, it's not like we've spoken recently.

"Good, good…You know, if you ever need anyone to talk to, Prue, then I'm always-"

"Oh, thanks, I know," I cut in, mortified.

"Right. Well." She stands up and smiles at me. "You'd better go and have lunch."

* * *

"I can't believe your sister, Prue!" Carrie crows, and she must be stupid if she thinks I can't see the delight all over her face at showing me up in front of everyone at our lunch table.

"Behaving like that at homecoming, and a freshman too! I mean, who does she think she is?" Carrie gives me a sly look here, perhaps to see how I'm taking it, or perhaps because that last comment was really directed at me.

"It wasn't any worse than how you were behaving," I shoot back. "Just because you're a few years older it makes it okay?" I'm not trying to defend Phoebe for her sake, more for my own, as selfish as that sounds. Carrie gapes, and everyone else at the lunch table has fallen silent too, no doubt to enjoy the fight they're hoping will happen.

"I'm not saying Phoebe's behavior was appropriate, but it's not like you weren't a complete slut in freshman year too."

For several seconds Carrie looks absolutely stunned, but then her face fills with fury.

"Thanks for reminding me why I didn't vote for you as homecoming queen," Carrie sneers, grabbing her tray and standing up.

I stand up too. "Don't worry, I'm leaving," I mutter, walking off.

Why did Phoebe have to come to this school? Why couldn't she have been born just a year later? Then we would have missed each other completely. Until she came here, nobody even knew I had a sister at this school. Piper doesn't exactly draw attention to herself after all. And now, now Phoebe's ruined everything. Not just the impression of my seemingly near-perfect life I give everyone, but Andy too.

* * *

After the lousy day, I don't think it could get much worse, but the greeting I get from Grams when I get home suggests otherwise.

"Prue!" Grams literally screeches from the sunroom.

"Yeah?" I call back, reluctant to actually face her.

"In here!" She replies, and I grudgingly drag myself into the sunroom to face here.

"What's wrong?" I ask as she looks up from her paper, smiling at her as sweetly as I can, although to be honest I don't have it perfected like Piper seems to.

Grams looks me up and down before looking directly at me. "How was Homecoming?"

"Um, fine," I answer warily. Perhaps someone called her and told her that Phoebe was there, and what she did. What if she's found out that I knew Phoebe was there? After all, this is just the kind of twisted thing she'd do, lull my into a false sense of security, making it look like we're having a perfectly normal and civil conversation before she attacks.

"Good," she says slowly. "And…this boy, the one you went with…"

"Andy," I supply.

"Yes, Andy," she says with some disdain. "I want to meet him. I'd like you to invite him over for dinner."

"No!" I blurt out in horror before I can stop myself.

Grams' eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. "Why ever not?" She asks.

"Well…I…he…" I stare speechlessly, trying frantically to come up with some excuse.

"Are you ashamed of us?" Grams asks dryly.

"No…"

"Well then I don't see what the problem is."

"No, I…" I trail off. "It's just that…why do you want to meet him?"

"Can't I check the kind of people my granddaughter is hanging around with? Anyway, it was Phoebe's idea actually. She thought it would be nice for all of us." _Phoebe_?! I'll kill her. And since when has Grams listened to Phoebe anyway?

"But…well I suppose…"

"Good, that's settled then," Grams says, already returning to her newspaper. "Invite him around on Friday."

I leave the room, rather dazed at how she managed to trick me into that.

This is exactly why I never tell Grams about any boyfriends. She wants to meet them, and when she meets them, she makes it hell for them, interrogating them and generally wearing them down until they think that my family are complete psychos and break up with me. Of course, I am basing this on the first and last time I brought a boyfriend home, which _was_ 8th grade. I should probably also add that he was my first boyfriend and I have not repeated that mistake since.

I stomp up the stairs nosily just to piss Grams off, and bump into Piper on the landing.

"What's up with you?" Piper asks, seeing my face.

"What do _you_ think, Little Miss Perfect?" I snap at her.

Piper stares at me speechlessly as I storm past, heading straight for Phoebe's room. I throw her door open without knocking, and she jumps from the bed where she's painting her toenails.

"Crap! _Prue_! Look what you made me do! I smudged my nail polish now." She begins trying to wipe away the nail polish that went over the edges, and I walk right up to her and fold my arms in front of her. After several seconds she looks up.

"Yeah?" She snaps. "What do you want anyway?"

I glare at Phoebe. "You've ruined everything," I snap. "Grams wants Andy to come for dinner on Friday! Happy now?!"

Phoebe gives a derisive laugh.

"Not everything's about _you_, Prue. The world doesn't revolve around you, even if school does, and this house does. Your life's like some lame teen movie." Phoebe spits, her face livid. Why does she hate me so much? "It's all pointless and meaningless," she continues. "You think any of this matters after you graduate? Do you really think anybody's going to care that for four years you were some stupid cheerleader with a load of false friends?" Before I can throw something equally as hurtful back at her, she stalks off, leaving me standing there, alone again.

**

* * *

**

**Massive struggle to write this. I had to force myself to! I refuse to give up on this! In future maybe I should have someone else write with me…that way someone can pick up the slack for me! I need to stop being so unreliable.**

**Song's by Joan Jett (oh yes, it **_**is**_** the song from the start of 10 Things I Hate about You).**

**I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving!**


	8. Somebody Hates You

**Sorry for leaving it so long again! Now in my defense I've been busy with school, and my grandmother got sick just before Christmas, so we had to go visit, and then she died about a month ago and now my other grandmother is sick, so everything's been a bit weird. And then I fractured my wrist tripping over (very embarrassing, my friends took photos of me lying there in pain on the floor before helping me up and getting me to the ER).**

**Now I warn you, this is not very good.**

**Somebody Hates You**

Phoebe's hurt me, more than I'd admit to Piper, who has begun her mandatory attempts at reconciliation between me and Phoebe, fulfilling her role as the peacemaking middle sister perfectly.

All I say to Piper is, "Forget it. Phoebe isn't my responsibility anymore. She can do what she wants."

Like she isn't already.

But I still can't help watching Phoebe whenever I see her at school, surreptitiously, of course, I don't want her knowing I still care. Because she sure doesn't seem to. She spends every lunchtime with Cole and his friends, and I wish I could make her understand why she and Cole can't go out, that I'm not trying to make her unhappy or to be Mom. I just want her safe.

The reason I spend so much of my time watching Phoebe is partly because I'm avoiding Andy. If I don't see him, I can't ask him about Friday, and I can tell Grams, perfectly honestly for a change, that I haven't seen him. And if he's insulted or hurt by my behavior, then that's just too bad. In fact it's for the best. I don't know what I was thinking in the first place. He just doesn't fit in with my friends, and the idea that I might actually like him and that he might actually like me can only mean things will end badly.

I'm pretty sure he is hurt by me avoiding him, or at least annoyed, because by Thursday he's stopped trying to talk to me. With Phoebe, and now Andy, ignoring me it's starting to feel like everyone hates me, when in reality all of my friends are still talking to me. They just don't feel much like my friends anymore.

"Have you asked him?" Grams asks me that evening as I'm sitting at the dining room table desperately trying to understand my Latin homework.

"Oh, I…uh, I haven't really seen him this week, so I didn't get a chance to…" She's not buying it.

"He's in the same classes as you, isn't he?"

"Well yeah, but-"

"Is he not in homeroom with you too?"

"Yeah, but-"

"And has he been absent this past week?"

"Not exactly-"

"So what is the problem?"

"I…I don't even like him Grams, so there's no point in inviting him over. I haven't even spoken to him this entire week." Only half a lie.

"You don't 'even like him'?" _I_ don't like the way she's imitating me. "Is this where Phoebe's getting it from?"

"Getting what from?" I ask wearily.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. What kind of example is this setting to your sister, a different boy every week?"

I note that she doesn't say sisters, plural. Piper's excluded. Again.

"It's not a different boy every week," I say, trying very hard to keep the annoyance out of my voice. "Am I not allowed to change my mind, _once_?"

"Not when it tells your sister that it's okay to behave like that…where is your sister?"

Phoebe's not home?

"I'm not sure…I think she said something about working on a project in the library after school…"

"You _think_?"

Grams rolls her eyes in exasperation and disappears into the kitchen, perhaps to try Phoebe's cell. I don't know why I bothered covering for the little slut.

The doorbell rings, and I drop my pen in exasperation. Caesar will have to wait. I open it expecting Phoebe to be there having forgotten her key, but she isn't. I bite my lip, and glance behind me.

"Hi," I say, stepping onto the porch and pulling the door behind me so Grams won't hear or see.

"Hi…" He replies, looking confused.

"What do you want?" I ask, folding my arms. Then I realize how rude I sound. "Sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like that. I just meant…" Why would you be here after how I've behaved? I don't say it.

"Have I…have I done something to upset you? I know Friday sucked, but…if I could have changed that then I would have, I-"

"Stop it," I cut in, closing my eyes so I don't have to see him.

"Prue?" He asks uncertainly when I don't say anything more.

"You didn't do anything," I mutter. "I just think you should…_I_ should stay away from _you_."

"Why?"

I open my eyes again.

"I just should." I shoot a nervous look behind me again, in case Grams is wondering where I've gone. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why the hell not? You aren't exactly giving me any reasons for anything, are you? I've spent the entire week thinking I've done something terrible to you, and actually it's because you don't feel like bothering to tell me that you don't want to see me anymore!"

"That's not fair!" I exclaim. "Okay, it is," I correct, seeing his face. "But it isn't like that!"

"So tell me how it is."

"I can't. Not right now. Please just go…"

He only seems more confused that he was when he got here, but he obliges me.

"Fine, but we're going to finish this tomorrow. Don't you dare act like I don't exist."

"I won't," I promise, already inside the house and shutting the door.

**Okay, I basically have the next few chapters done, but I'm not sure when I'm going to be able to upload them, because I'm going to stay with my grandmother to help her out with everything when she gets out of the hospital, and she doesn't have any internet connection, and when I get back it'll be my finals, but hopefully I will find time in-between.**


	9. You Can Do Better Than Me

**At the risk of sounding like a stalker, I noticed that quite a lot of people added this story to their alerts list in the past few months but did not review. Just know that this makes me sad.**

**And I AM NOT GIVING UP ON THIS STORY, I SWEAR TO GOD. I have opened this document practically every day, and it has been a nightmare to get it right, and it still feels completely wrong now, but it will have to do. Basically I had to write something, anything, and that's what I did for most of this.**

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

**You Can Do Better Than Me **

Despite my promise, I don't go to homeroom the next morning. Instead I go to the nurse's office and tell her I feel sick and I'm on my period; Phoebe uses it all the time to get out of gym and it works okay for her. I _will_ talk to him, I just want to delay it a bit…or for as long as possible.

Unfortunately as long as possible turns out to be not very long at all, because when I refuse pointblank to go home, the nurse decides I can't be that ill and therefore have no right to be hanging around in her office. Still, I manage to avoid him until lunch, when I know that inevitably he will be there. But I still sit with Tom.

"Friday, after the game, I'm having a little get together, a few close friends, you know…" Tom smiles.

"You're having a victory party," I say, smirking at his arrogance.

"Exactly," Tom says, smirking back at me. "You'll come, right?"

"Sure, if you win." I'm just grateful things are okay between us after homecoming.

"Prue, _I'm_ playing. Of course we'll win."

"We'll see…" I trail off. Andy's come in, and any second he's going to see me.

"I have to go," I mutter, standing up. "See you later."

I head over to Andy, aware that Tom is watching me after my abrupt exit, and that he'll be pissed that I left him for someone like Andy.

I stop a few feet away from him. "Hi."

"Where were you in homeroom?" He asks, frowning. He looks irritated.

"Nurse's office."

"Oh. Right. Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Good." He starts making his way to a table, and I assume he wants me to follow him.

"So do you want to tell me why you've been ignoring me yet?"

"Look, I didn't mean to be such…a bitch…but it's just my grandmother wanted me to invite you over so she could meet you, and I just couldn't let that happen…"

I see the expression on his face. "That came out wrong."

"I just don't get you at all," he says. "Sometimes you're funny and interesting and fun to be around, and other times, you're just like all the others." He looks over to Tom and everybody. "Which one of them is really you?"

I don't know. "The first one, of course! It's not that I don't want my grandmother to meet _you_, it's that I don't want you to meet _her_."

"What has your grandmother got to do with everything anyway?"

"My parents are dead."

"Oh god, I'm sorry," he says, looking appalled with himself. Then I feel appalled with myself for blurting it out like that.

"Well my mom is, my father's just a bastard," I correct myself. "He's as good as dead. And my grandmother's very…protective." Psychotic more like.

"Yeah, but why does that mean _I_ can't meet _her_? Surely-"

"Prue!" I turn around to face Piper, who looks flushed and slightly disheveled as if she's run here.

"What?!" I snap loudly in exasperation.

"I…" Her voice falters, and she glances at Andy.

"Go away, Piper," I tell her, and Piper's face falls, but I don't care, I feel like being mean. That's how I feel like being all the time these days. I turn back to Andy, who's staring at me, possibly in disgust.

"But Prue," Piper presses.

"Shut up! I don't care, Piper!"

"Maybe you should go with your sister," Andy begins, but Piper cuts him off.

"_Prue_, you have to come _now_. Phoebe-"

I push my tray away furiously and stand up to face her, snatching up my bag.

"_What_?! What has she done now?"

"She's with Principal O'Connor," Piper says in an undertone.

"Why?" I demand. "No, wait, don't tell me. I don't care. This is not my responsibility! She doesn't care about _me_, why should I care about _her_?"

"Prue, Phoebe asked for you."

Great. Just great. Now I seem like the most heartless person in the world.

"Fine. This is just fine." Without even bothering to look back, I mutter, "I'll talk to you later," to Andy and head to the principal's office with Piper following behind.

"What's she done?" I mutter as we walk.

"I don't know, they wouldn't tell me, and neither would she. She just kept saying she wanted you to come, so in the end the secretary told me I could get you."

We stop outside the secretary's office.

"I'm not suppose to go in," Piper tells me.

"Oh." I don't want to go in alone. I don't want to go in at all. I can't face my sister.

"I'll see you after school," Piper says, and pushes me forward.

With a sigh, I go in.

Phoebe is crying. Properly crying. I stop several feet away from her and stare until she looks up at me.

"Prue," she says through her tears, wiping her eyes. "I'm really sorry."

"What for?" I ask, hesitant to sit next to her, preferring to keep the distance between us until I know exactly what she's done.

"Grams is going to be so angry, and she'll blame you too, but I didn't mean to. I wish I'd never done it."

"Done what?" I ask as calmly as I can.

"They suspended me."

Seeing as she's not answering me, I don't bother to ask for the third time exactly why she's here, but it can't be good if they suspended her.

"Cole had…he had some _stuff_ that he wanted to look after for him, just for a little while. They were going to search his locker, and-"

"How stupid are you?!" I interrupt. "_Stuff_? For god's sake, Phoebe, he says jump and you say how high, is that it?"

"No! He didn't think they'd ever check _my_ locker, or he wouldn't have done it."

"Oh sure he wouldn't," I mutter. "What stuff?"

"Just some weed that he needed to-"

"Why would you do it?" I ask, aghast.

"I don't know! It seemed like a good idea at the time! Not a good idea," she backtracks at my expression, "I mean…he asked, and I…I couldn't say no."

She continues to look at me, blinking back her tears fruitlessly while I stare at her rather coldly.

"Say something," she says finally.

"Like what? What is it you want me to say?"

"I don't know, I-"

"Phoebe Halliwell!" I close my eyes, not bothering to turn around. When I open them again, Grams is standing by Phoebe, glaring at her with one of the most frightening expressions I've ever seen on her face.

"How could you?" Grams hisses, and Phoebe doesn't reply, looking terrified. Then Grams rounds on me.

"And _you_…" I decide not to say anything. Arguing is pointless.

"Come on, Phoebe," Grams says, taking hold of her arm, pulling her up and steering her towards the door. "I'll deal with you later," she tells me over her shoulder.

"Can't wait!" I call sarcastically after her.

Sometimes I just want to die, but then I think about how selfish that is. All afternoon I was waiting for it to get around that Phoebe was some sort of drug-addict, because that's the way everyone would tell it. It's what everyone would assume. And nothing else went right. I was late for my first afternoon class because of Phoebe, and I didn't have a late pass, but thankfully Mr. Oakes let me off, I hadn't done the English homework because I hadn't even realized there was any, and at the last bell I realize I've left my uniform in my car.

Still, I'm grateful for practice after school, because it means postponing seeing Grams for another hour and a half, and right now I wouldn't be sorry if I could put that off forever.

Miserably I make my way to my car, and dump my books in the passenger seat, then retrieve the rather crumpled uniform from the back.

"Prue…" I try to stand up quickly, forgetting that I'm half in my car and hit my head.

"Fuck," I mutter furiously as I get out properly, rubbing the top of my head.

"Are you okay?" Andy asks in concern.

"Oh, I'm great," I say.

"Can we talk?"

"I've got practice…" I say, trailing off.

"Right, well I guess we can always talk another time," he says, but he doesn't move. I just stand there too, holding my skirt limply in one hand.

"I don't want to go to practice," I say eventually.

"So don't," he suggests in a nonchalant tone, but he looks slightly brighter.

"Okay," I say, swallowing hard. I've never cut practice before.

We carry on staring until he demands, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Oh, right…" I open my car and throw the skirt back in.

I feel bad for cutting practice, and even worse for not going straight home, and I know Grams will be furious as it is, but I don't care.

We sit in the shade under a nearby tree.

"What was wrong with Phoebe earlier?" He asks.

"Oh." I hesitate. I don't want to tell him, I don't want to tell anyone. Maybe that way I can stop everyone from finding out.

He catches my hesitation. "You don't have to tell me."

"She hid drugs in her locker for Cole," I mutter with a sigh.

He stares at me.

"It's not my fault," I add hurriedly, and his expression changes to one of confusion.

"I didn't say it was. Why would it be?"

"Well she's my sister…"

"Yeah, she's not _you_. You don't control her actions."

I think back to Phoebe at lunch, and her tears. Her frightened expression. I shouldn't be here right now. If I'm going to cut practice then it should be to go home for Phoebe.

"I shouldn't be here," I mutter, and risk glancing at him. He doesn't look angry. "I need to be with Phoebe."

He simply nods, and I can only think about how he could do so much better than me.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

**Right, I feel ill because my friends and I inadvertently had a swine flu party (we did not realize that a friend who had just got back from vacation had it) and now I have it, it is very late here, middle-of-the-night-getting-light-soon kind of late, and I basically feel like crap, so please brighten up my life with a review if you're feeling nice. (Even though I really hate this chapter.)**


	10. To Be There Now

**Well I got a wonderful PM from someone asking me to please continue this story, a very long time ago, and seeing as I actually have most of it typed up I thought maybe I should, you know, try to finish it. I don't know if anybody is still reading, but I may as well post this up just in case!**

**This is rather short and not very good though, more of a filler.**

* * *

**To Be There Now**

As predicted all hell breaks loose when I get home. Phoebe and Grams are already having a shouting match at full volume in the living room. I hover in the doorway watching, not wanting to throw myself into the furor and the firing line

My younger sister is crying while Grams just looks livid.

"I didn't mean to do it," Phoebe is crying.

"Didn't mean to do it?" Grams repeats. "Of course you meant to do it! How could you, _Phoebe_, how _could you_?"

Phoebe doesn't say anything.

"And all for a _boy_! How long have you been going out with him?" She demands.

Phoebe shrugs helplessly.

"You're _fourteen_. You are _not_ old enough to have a boyfriend! You know full well that I'd never have allowed this, or you wouldn't have felt the need to hide it from me."

I take a small step forward and a floorboard creaks. Both of them turn to look at me, Phoebe a little hopefully and Grams…well.

"Did _you_ know about this?" She asks me.

"I…well…"

"So you've helped your _fourteen_ year old sister to hide the fact that she has a boyfriend who is a senior?"

"No, not exactly-"

"Did you know he was into _drugs_?" She spit's the last word.

"Of course not!" I protest at once.

Grams glares from me to Phoebe.

"It's like I don't even know who the two of you are anymore," she says. "I've _never_ been so ashamed in all my life. _Suspended_."

She's says the last word in a low voice as if she's afraid the neighbors might be able to hear.

"It's not the end of the world," I say, trying to be practical.

It's the wrong thing to say.

"Not the end of the world?" Grams shrieks, forgetting about potential eavesdroppers. "This will be on her permanent record! _Permanent record_. Forever!"

"Yeah, I get what the word permanent means, thanks, I didn't study all that SAT vocab for nothing."

The sarcastic remark is out of my mouth before I can stop it and Grams looks furious.

"Well, I know exactly where Phoebe gets her blatant disregard for rules from, Prudence! Do neither of you have any respect for me at all?"

"Of course we have respect for you," Phoebe says hurriedly, rubbing her cheeks, but I roll my eyes.

"It's always about _you_, isn't it?" I ask. "You always have to assume everything we do is about you, that we do things just to get at you. Well we _don't_! It's not all about you!"

"I've had just about enough of you," Grams says. "_Both_ of you. Phoebe, you're grounded for the foreseeable future, as are you, Prudence. You may go to your practices but otherwise I want you _home_, immediately. And you can _forget_ about seeing that boy. _Both_ of you, in fact. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Grams," Phoebe says dutifully. "Sorry," she adds in a whisper.

"Crystal clear," I mutter.

"Go to your rooms," she orders.

We both traipse silently up the stairs, but I go into Phoebe's room instead of my own.

"Prue, I'm really sorry," Phoebe says, starting to cry again.

"Why would you do something so _stupid_, Phoebe? You know better than that! And for _him_ of all people! A boy!"

"Wouldn't you do anything to help somebody you loved?" Phoebe questions, staring at me with wide eyes.

I think about all the things I would do for her or Piper, and nod reluctantly.

"Yes, I would." I don't tell her that I don't believe her when she says she loves him. I'm sure _she_ believes she loves him, but what does she know about it? She's fourteen. And she can do so much better than him. So instead of telling her this I hug her.

"Sorry," she says again.

"You can stop apologizing," I tell her, sighing. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Thanks," she says, giving me a half-hearted smile.

"Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Don't do anything like this ever again."

"I promise," Phoebe says vehemently.

* * *

**The title is a song by Carissa's Wierd. (Yes, that is spelt right!)**


	11. Bathroom Girl

**Bathroom Girl**

On Friday Tom's arrogance pays off; the football team win. For once I don't really care, but seeing as Tom has talked me into attending his little victory party, and I do mean _his_ because he attributes the entire win to his own skill rather than any team effort, I don't have much choice in celebrating.

I feel a little guilty in going because I know full well Grams would hit the roof if she knew I was here, but I convince myself an hour won't hurt. As far as Grams knows the game is still going on.

Because I know I'll have to go home soon I don't have anything to drink, too afraid that Grams will smell it on me when I get home, or just look at me and _know_ I've broken all of her rules. However just about everybody else is drinking copiously because that's apparently the only way they know how to celebrate.

I spend half an hour listening to Lora talking excitedly about Tom and how great he is before I decide I can't take it anymore.

"I'm going to go get a drink," I tell them, standing up. "I'll see you later."

Or not.

People are in high spirits, probably fuelled by the alcohol. Although I recognize a lot of people, there are just as many that I don't recognize. Sadly as I get outside I run into somebody I _do_ know.

"Prue," Tom slurs, holding his bottle of beer up in a greeting.

"Hi Tom," I say, leaning away in disgust as he half falls onto me. I do not have the patience to deal with drunk people right now. "Drunk much?"

"Ah Prue, let me get you a drink…" He looks around vaguely for some more alcohol, and then stumbles forward, too unsteady on his feet to actually carry his offer out.

"No, I'm fine. Really."

"I _insist_!" Tom says rather too loudly and lifting his beer with a little too much enthusiasm so that both of us get covered with a fine rain of the stuff.

"Oh great, Tom," I say, shaking it off my hand. "Just great." Now I'm going to have avoid Grams when I get home or she'll think it's _my_ spilt beer I stink of.

"Oh loosen up, Prue," he says, sliding his hand around my waist. "Can I talk to you?" He asks as I lean away again. "In private?"

"Yeah, okay," I say with some reluctance, and allow Tom to lead me to the other side of the pool and around the side of the pool house, where it isn't so light, or busy.

"Here," Tom says, thrusting his bottle towards me. "Have some, go on."

I take a small sip because he probably won't stop pestering otherwise. Yeah, beer is as disgusting as I remember.

Tom takes a much bigger swig and puts his hand on my knee. "Prue…Prue."

"What's the matter, Tom?" I ask with exasperation.

"Matter? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! It's all so very, very _right_…you can't ignore it Prue, I know you've felt it too…"

"Felt what?" I ask, firmly removing his hand from my thigh before it can go any further up my skirt.

"_Us_," Tom says with a flourish of the bottle.

"Oh Tom…I don't know what you think you've felt, but I…" How do I reject the drunk guy who looks like he's about to pass out on me, or at the very least throw up, gently?

"I think we work better as friends…" More to the point, _why_ am I rejecting the star of the football team, most popular guy in school?

Tom frowns. "Prue, there's no need to be shy…it's only you and me here…I think we should stop playing games. Think about how _great_ we'd be together."

"Tom, really," I say, trying to be firm, because his hand is back on my thigh. "I don't like you like that."

Tom slams his bottle down on the stone floor and literally lunges at me.

"Tom!" I say in annoyance, trying to push him off, but naturally he's stronger than me, and both of us end up falling on the floor because Tom can't keep his balance when he's this wasted. Tom takes this as an opportunity to pin me down with his weight and kiss me. Up until this point I wasn't particularly worried, but now he's scaring me.

"See?" He demands. "You like me too…"

"I really _don't_!" I protest, trying to kick him off.

"Prue," he says, starting to sound irritated. "You can stop playing hard to get."

"I'm not _playing_ anything! Get _off_ me!"

It always works on TV so I do the only thing left I can think of, I bring my knee up, hard.

"_Jesus_!" He shouts, immediately rolling off me and I scramble to my feet.

I take the opportunity to run while he's too distracted by the pain to notice or try to stop me.

I push past a group of people mingling in front of the patio doors, not caring as one of them yells, "_Hey_!" in annoyance after me, and head straight for the downstairs bathroom. Of course there's a queue, a group of people waiting impatiently outside the locked door, probably while somebody throws up in there. I hesitate, but only for a moment, before taking the stairs two at a time instead. I don't really want to distance myself from where there are people, but I also want a room with a lock on the door. It's a lot quieter upstairs, although not completely deserted, but the bathroom's empty so I shut myself in there, locking the door firmly behind me.

I don't really think Tom would actually bother to follow me, but I don't want to take the risk of running into him or anyone else for that matter. I wish I'd never come to this stupid party. It isn't worth the risk I'm taking of Grams finding out and suddenly I wish I was anywhere but here.

I sit on the edge of the bathtub and pull out my phone. It's times like this when I realize how small my life actually is. Virtually everybody I call a friend is at this party and yet I'm choosing to lock myself in a bathroom rather than go to any one of them. Worse, when I scroll through the contacts in my cell there's not a single person to call bar my sisters and I can hardly do that, can I? For all my friends I don't have anybody. There's just me, and I'm not enough.

I reach the end of my contacts and start scrolling through them from the beginning again.

I stop on Andy's name, my finger hesitating above the green dial button. He's not like them. But that doesn't mean I should call him and suddenly he's the only person I want to talk to, so I press the button; after all, I've got nobody else.

He answers after three rings.

"Hi," I say, feeling a little uncertain.

"What's up?" He asks, sounding distracted.

"Nothing much…are you busy? Do you want me to go?"

"No, no," he says quickly, sounding a lot more focused. "Sorry, I was just doing an assignment. But it can wait. So why'd you call?"

"I…I just wanted to talk to you. That's all."

"Oh. Right." He sounds surprised by this. "Wasn't it the game tonight?" He asks then.

"Yeah…"

"So? How did we do?"

"We won," I say dully.

"Well I'd hate to hear how you'd sound if we'd lost!" He jokes.

I smile weakly.

"So I'm guessing you're celebrating?" He guesses.

"Something like that…" I trail off. I have the sudden and overwhelming urge to cry. "Andy?"

My voice sounds small and insignificant.

"What?"

I know just from the tone of his voice that he can tell there's something wrong. He's just waiting for me to admit it.

"Can you come get me?"

There's a moment's silence, then he says, "Sure. Where are you?"

It's my turn to hesitate.

"Tom's," I say in a whisper, as if that'll make it any better.

"Right. Of course."

I hate the way he says that, but I'm not going to start a fight with him. I need him right now, and anyway, he's completely justified in saying that. He's right. Of course I'd be at this stupid party with these stupid people because I'm just as stupid, maybe more for knowing how ridiculous everything is and still going along with it all.

"Fifteen minutes, okay?" He says.

"Okay," I say back.

* * *

I wait ten minutes in the bathroom before unlocking the door and heading back downstairs. There's one couple at the top of the stairs, but they completely ignore me, or perhaps they're oblivious, too caught up in their own moment. Unfortunately downstairs is less deserted, but thankfully I don't see anybody that I'm obligated to stop and talk to, although I do pass one of the football team, bowing my head as I pass so he won't notice me, just in case. Just in case Tom asks somebody if they've seen me. Just in case he's said something to someone.

The front lawn and driveway is littered with both people and empty plastic cups. One girl is throwing up in some shrubs near the front door while another girl, who looks pretty unsteady on her feet, holds her friend's hair back. Glad I'm not one of those girls, I go to the end of the driveway to wait, as far away from the house as possible. It's a fairly cold night, not helped by the wind that's picking up. I wrap my arms around myself, partly because of the wind, but partly because I feel self-conscious in my uniform all of a sudden. Uniforms are supposed to make you anonymous, part of the crowd, but our cheerleader uniforms do anything but that. They make us stand out, mark us out as different from most, as part of the elite. Anyone looking from the house would recognize me as part of the team at the very least, if not me as an individual. I admit that I've enjoyed the attention in the past, that I wanted people to look at me and envy me; after all, doesn't everyone want that on some level? But lately that's been starting to feel like a bad thing. Recently I've been wanting to blend into the crowd more and more, be as unnoticeable as most people, instead of having people look at me and talk about me and judge me.

"Prue."

I've been so busy thinking about myself that I haven't noticed Andy arrive (what's new there?). He's standing awkwardly several feet away, looking at me like he doesn't know what to do. Dropping my arms from my shoulders I run at him.

"Thank you so much for coming to get me!" I cry, throwing my arms around him.

"Whoa," he says, patting my back and sounding embarrassed. "It's okay."

I'm not sure if he's talking about the coming to get me, or the fact that I've started crying on him.

"I don't want to go home," I mumble. "I can't face Grams right now." Because she told me I wasn't allowed to come but I went anyway, and now I've got myself into trouble, which is probably just what she wants.

"You can stay at mine," he offers and I nod gratefully, not caring what I'm going to say to Grams or what Tom might be saying to everybody about me at this very moment. All that matters is that he's doing this for me.

* * *

**Sorry if the ending seems a little abrupt, this was originally going to be longer but I decided to cut the chapter into two after I wrote some more about the party. And the song from the title is by Air!**


	12. Talk Tonight

**WyaRose: Sadly still not really any Phoebe/Prue interaction in this, but there's some sisterly bonding coming up in the next chapter! I love the whole sister aspect; I hope it's convincing!**

* * *

**Talk Tonight**

"So do you want to tell me what happened tonight?" Andy asks, glancing at me momentarily before being forced to return his attention to the road.

"No," I mutter.

I'm leaning my head against the cool passenger window, gazing out into the darkness in which I can see nothing but passing lights. It's easier than looking at him right now.

"Right, well you see that's kind of going to be a problem seeing as I just drove to some idiot's house on a Friday evening to pick you up where I find you crying and now I'm about to let you stay the night at my place even though I have yet to tell my Dad this."

"Sorry," I whisper. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening."

If he's trying to make me feel even worse then he's succeeding.

"Prue," he says with a sigh. "I just want to know what's got you so upset. Is that too much to ask? You'll call me and expect me to pick you up and help you, but you can't tell me whatever's wrong? How does that work?"

I continue to stare out of the window for several moments, then sit up straight, risking a look at him.

"If I tell you then you're going to think it's my fault. That I'm just a stupid cheerleader. And I don't want you to think that."

"I would never think that about you, no matter what you tell me."

He says this with such sincerity that I can't help but be surprised. I don't think anyone's ever told me that they'd like me for being me no matter what. It's usually the opposite that's true, that every little thing I do is there to be judged and turned against me. I can see that I have no choice but to tell him.

"It was nothing really," I say reluctantly.

"Yeah, I usually cry at nothing," he says sarcastically.

I bite my lip, but before I can say anything more he's apologizing.

"Sorry, don't listen to me. Ignore that. Just…ignore me."

"Kind of hard to ignore the person driving the car you're in."

He glances at me and smiles.

"Don't try to change the subject," he says.

I sigh.

"I guess you were right about Tom," I say. I hesitate, then carry on, "I always _knew_ you were right about him. I just didn't want to admit it."

"What did he do?" Andy asks in a measured voice, although I get the impression he's trying not to overreact.

"He…well he was drunk-"

"That is not a valid excuse for whatever you're about to tell me," he says rather forcefully.

"I know that, but I'm sure he wouldn't have said and done that if he was sober…"

"Said and done _what_?" There's a definite edge to his voice now.

"It was nothing. He just…he might have misinterpreted things. Or maybe…maybe I was giving off the wrong signals."

I can feel the color rising in my cheeks at those words, but thankfully it's too dark for him to be able to see that.

"He was saying all this stuff, about us, me and him I mean. About how good we'd be together and how he knew I wanted it too."

"Prom king and prom queen," Andy mutters, clenching the steering wheel tightly.

That hurts. To hide this fact from him I turn my head away, looking out of the window again and pressing my lips together tightly.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, Prue," he says. "Really, it's not you, it's _him_." He spits the last word out angrily. "I wasn't trying to make a dig at _you_."

I stay silent for several moments, then whisper, "I don't care about that stuff. I know everybody thinks I do, but I don't."

"I know. I know that."

Because Andy's hurt my feelings I don't feel quite so bad in blurting out, "He made a pass at me. He tried to put his hand up my skirt. Then because he was so drunk he fell over and he pulled me down with him and tried to kiss me. He sort of had me pinned down so I freaked out and kicked him."

Andy doesn't say anything. In fact if we weren't sitting so close in a quiet car I'd assume he hadn't heard me at all for all the reaction he gives. He simply keeps his gaze firmly on the road ahead, which I suppose is a good thing considering if he didn't then we'd probably both wind up in the hospital at the very least seeing as he's driving, but still, I was expecting more.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" I ask finally, beginning to worry that he's silence is indicative of his feelings towards _me_. That he's blaming _me_. I mean, I must be to blame a little. I must have given Tom the impression that I liked him, that I wanted something more, even if I didn't mean to.

"Where'd you kick him?"

I blink, surprised.

"Where it hurts," I reply, suppressing a smile.

This elicits a smile from him and after a moment he begins to laugh.

"Okay, that makes me feel better," he says when his laughter has subsided. "Although I'd like to have a go myself."

"Yeah, it made me feel better too," I agree. " I know you told me about him, by the way," I add. "I should have listened. Sorry."

"It's alright. I probably wouldn't have listened to me if I were you either. You _have_ known him considerably longer so I guess he has earned your trust more than I have."

"No, he hasn't. And if anything, the fact that I _know_ him should have been a warning. I'm so _stupid_ sometimes."

"No you're not," he says quickly.

"You have to say that," I mutter.

"Misjudging somebody doesn't make you stupid."

I smile.

"I'm sorry you had such a bad time at Homecoming," I blurt out.

"What?" He asks, glancing at me in confusion.

"Homecoming," I repeat as if that's all I need to say; after all, he was there too.

"I didn't have a bad time. Why do you say that?"

"Well…I…it wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind and…" I hesitate. "I know it was my fault. I was just so preoccupied with Phoebe, and I was so embarrassed that you heard all that stuff she said…that you saw us arguing."

"It's okay. I get it. I'm sure if I had a little sister I'd have behaved the same."

"And then I called it a disaster and I didn't mean to make it sound like it was _your_ fault, it wasn't -"

"I'm still glad I went with you," he interrupts.

"Oh."

If I could then I'd apologize for the way I left things in the car too, for not kissing him, but I can't bring myself to say that, and anyway, it's probably best not to bring it up right now. The last thing he wants is a reminder that while I kissed Tom tonight (although technically _he_ kissed _me_) I wouldn't kiss him, even if I do regret that now.

Andy turns the car into a driveway and cuts the engine. Now that we're actually at his house I start to feel anxious. I can imagine how Grams would react if I turned up with somebody of the opposite sex announcing that they were going to be staying the night, and even though Grams is stricter than most parents, I can't imagine a lot of parents being okay with their 17 year old son bringing home a girl from a party, even if he wasn't in attendance at that party himself.

"What are your parents going to say?" I ask.

"My mom's away," he says, suddenly looking wary.

"Anywhere nice?" I enquire.

"No," he says abruptly, then looks embarrassed. "I mean, just her sister's. My aunt's that is… Anyway," he continues briskly. "Dad won't mind…as long as we're not sleeping in the same room, that is. Which we're not," he adds hurriedly, as if he doesn't want me to think he's presuming anything.

"Are you sure he won't mind?" I ask anxiously.

"Positive," he replies.

* * *

His house is nice. More than nice. Don't get me wrong, I love my house. It has a lot of happy memories, not just for me and my sisters, but for all the previous generations that lived there. I love the history it has. But in spite of all of this sometimes it doesn't feel quite like a home. It's like there's something missing. Andy's house feels like a home and I'm only in the hall.

"My dad's asleep," Andy says in a low voice as he puts his car keys quietly down on a table near the front door.

I follow him down the hall, trying to make as little noise as possible, and into the living room.

"Do you want a drink?" He asks, flicking on the light.

"No thanks," I say, although the last thing I drank was Tom's beer. "Actually, maybe a glass of water would be nice."

"Sure, I'll be right back."

He disappears, leaving me standing in his living room. I wander over to a sideboard and pick up a photograph. It's obviously Andy when he was younger, with two people who can only be his parents. They look happy. I bite my lip to stop myself from doing something stupid like crying, and gently rest the photo frame back in its place.

"That was taken in Vermont."

I turn around quickly, feeling strangely embarrassed to have been caught looking at the photo, which is absurd considering it's on display.

"Not long before my grandmother died," Andy adds, handing me a glass of water. "She lived there."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, it was a long time ago now."

"You look happy. The three of you."

"Yeah," he says shortly, offering nothing more.

"So…" I say, to fill in the silence. "Thanks for coming to get me tonight."

"Any time," he says. "Well maybe not _any_ time…"

"Don't worry, I think I'll be giving parties a miss for the foreseeable future."

We both smile at each other.

"So, uh, I'll take the couch," I say, breaking eye contact before things get too uncomfortable.

"Don't be ridiculous. You can have my room. I'll sleep down here."

I open my mouth to protest, but he shakes his head and firmly begins pushing me towards the hallway and the stairs.

"No arguments," he says. "Anyway, I wouldn't want my Dad getting up tomorrow and finding you on the couch. Much better for him to find _me_ there."

The landing is in darkness, so I step aside to let Andy lead the way. He doesn't turn the light on and after a moment he reaches behind to find my hand, linking his fingers through mine as I follow him blindly, trusting that he has his house committed well enough to memory to be able to see without the light.

I like him holding my hand. It feels right. It feels natural. As soon as he does it I realize that I _wanted_ him to hold my hand. But I don't _like_ that I like it. I'm not the kind of person who gets caught up in insignificant, miniscule things like that, who assigns importance to things that in reality mean nothing, especially something as small as somebody taking my hand. But I'm doing it involuntarily. I wonder if him not putting the light on was just an excuse to hold my hand. God, I _hope_ it was just an excuse.

Once he's shut the door of his room he turns the light on. His room is tidy and organized and I recognize some History homework on his desk, homework that I have yet to even look at. I stand still, waiting for him to say or do something while I try to ignore the fact that I'm in his bedroom standing right next to his bed.

"Do you want something to sleep in?" He asks, taking in my cheerleader uniform. "That's probably not the most comfortable thing to sleep in."

"I've been feeling stupid in it pretty much since I put it on before the game," I say, looking down at the pleated skirt. I don't add that lately, instead of feeling confident and self-assured in my uniform like I used to, I've been feeling like a total fraud.

He hands me some clothes.

"They're probably a bit big, but…" He shrugs.

"It's fine… thanks. And thanks for tonight. It means a lot."

"It's alright," he says.

There's another silence as we look at each other, just like the one downstairs several minutes before, but this time Andy's the one to break it.

"Night, Prue," he says, offering me a smile.

"Night," I murmur, half smiling back.

* * *

**The song is by Oasis (one of my favorite bands).**


	13. Morning Glory

**WyaRose: I know, I never was and never will be that cool!**

**So I realized I totally lied about the sister stuff in this chapter. There is some but it's not the bit I was thinking of, that's in the next chapter!**

* * *

**Morning Glory**

I wake up to blinding light and shield my eyes until I become accustomed to it. I sit up slowly and debate what to do. There are sounds from downstairs, of a radio, so someone must be up. Having nothing but my uniform, I have no choice but to put it back on, and if I felt stupid yesterday evening it's nothing to how I feel this morning. I can hear noise from downstairs so I decide to follow it which leads me to the kitchen.

Andy and a man look up as, ever graceful, I half stumble in, and then the man, presumably Andy's father, turns to look at Andy with raised eyebrows.

"I see he's still bringing cheerleaders home," Andy's dad comments, turning the page of his newspaper. "Some things don't change, despite the state."

"He's joking," Andy says to me, beckoning me over. God, I _hope_ he's joking. That would just be the icing on the cake, to find out I've been dating some psycho with a thing for cheerleaders.

"I get up this morning to find my son camped on the couch and talking about a cheerleader in his bed," his father continues.

"Dad," Andy says, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, he's kidding," he adds to me.

"Yeah, I'm only joking," his dad says with a smile. "Have some breakfast, Prue." I sink into a seat next to Andy, and rest my head in my hands feeling utterly humiliated in regards to the entire situation. What did Andy even say to his dad about me being here?

"I've got to be getting ready," his dad says, standing up. "Have some toast," he tells me, pointing to the rack of toast in front of me. "And it was nice meeting you, Prue," he adds, smiling warmly at me. I smile weakly back as he walks out.

"How are you feeling?" Andy asks, reaching for the paper his dad left and flicking through it. I have a feeling he just wants to avoid eye contact with me.

"Like hell," I inform him. I keep replaying last night in my head, wondering if I could have done things differently. Wondering what's going to happen at school on Monday.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Andy asks, turning another page.

"About what?"

He looks up and says witheringly, "The fact that Tom thought it was okay to try to have sex with you."

"Nothing," I say with a frown. What does he expect me to do?

Andy folds the paper in half and puts it down carefully. "Prue, you should report it."

"It wasn't like that. He was drunk."

"Yeah, _he_ was, not _you_." Andy clearly has it in for Tom. Who can blame him?

"Look, it's Tom. I'm not going to report it! It was just a misunderstanding."

"Come on, Prue. You're not going to let Tom get away with this, are you?"

"Andy, he didn't _do_ anything. There's nothing to let him get away with." I pause, then continue, "And anyway, there's no proof. It's his word against mine. So can we just forget it ever happened? I'm grateful that you picked me up, and that you let me stay, but even if I did report it, there would be nothing anyone could do. I can't exactly prove it, can I?"

"No, I suppose not," Andy mutters sullenly. "I just don't like the idea that he thinks he can do what he wants. He might be everybody's star football player, but he's not God."

"Drop it," I say. "For me. This isn't your fight."

He looks at me stubbornly for a few moments, then reluctantly says, "Fine. I'll drop it. For _you_."

"Thank you."

I take a piece of toast from the rack and am just about to take a bite when he speaks again.

"So what are you going to tell your grandmother about where you were last night?"

I shut my mouth again and place the toast on my plate instead. I don't feel that hungry all of a sudden.

"I don't know," I whisper. "She's going to _kill_ me."

He laughs.

"Ground you, maybe, but kill's probably a slight exaggeration."

"I'm already grounded," I admit. "After Phoebe…and…well, what happened…I shouldn't even have gone to that party last night. I _wish_ I hadn't as well."

I push my plate away and sigh.

"Want me to give you a ride home?" He asks and I nod silently.

The longer I wait the worse Grams' reaction will be. May as well face the music rather than prolonging it.

* * *

I'm expecting all hell to break loose the second I walk through the front door, but to my surprise it doesn't. The house is surprisingly peaceful, not at all like somewhere I'd expect World War Three to be about to break out. I quietly climb the stairs and head in the direction of my bedroom, but to my surprise Phoebe cuts me off by suddenly stepping in-between me and my bedroom door.

"_God_!" I exclaim, jumping, then hiss, "What are you doing?" in a low voice, worried that Grams will have heard me.

"What are _you_ doing?" My sister retorts, grabbing onto my arm and yanking me into my own bedroom, shutting the door firmly.

"Trying to get into my bedroom without being accosted?"

"Still in your uniform, I see," she says, raising her eyebrows and looking me up and down. I don't know if I'm imagining the faint smugness in her voice.

"So what?" I retort, although the color rises in my cheeks.

"So…usually coming home in the same clothes you were wearing the night before means you stayed at somebody's place."

"Could you _leave_?" I ask her, deciding the best thing to do is to ignore her.

I turn away from her and go over to my closet to find some clothes that aren't as incriminating as the ones I'm wearing.

"No. I want to know where you were. And more importantly, who you were with."

I don't answer her.

"You were with Andy, weren't you?" She persists.

"Look, Phoebe," I say in exasperation, turning away from my clothes to glare at her. "I'm about to get hell from Grams, I don't need it from my fourteen year old sister too."

Phoebe smiles.

"Actually that's where you're wrong," she says, definitely sounding smug now.

"What are you talking about?"

"Grams doesn't know you weren't here."

"She doesn't?" I ask, my mouth falling open in surprise.

"Nope."

"How come?"

"Because I told her you were," she says, looking pleased with herself.

"But didn't she wait up?"

"No. She went to bed early. She had a headache. So I told her you were home at about 11 but you'd gone straight to bed."

"Why would you do that?" I ask, taken aback that Phoebe of all people would do something so nice for me.

"Well you stuck up for me, over that whole thing with Cole…" She turns red. "I figured I owed you."

"Thanks," I say, smiling.

"And it did seem like the sisterly thing to do," she continues. "You know how Grams is always telling us how important it is that we look out for each other."

"Yeah, I don't think she meant lie to her for each other. Anyway, how did you know I wasn't in trouble?" I ask her, suspiciously.

Phoebe blushes again, looking uncomfortable. She mumbles something indistinct.

"What?"

"Cole told me he saw you leaving that party…" She says more clearly.

"Cole. You're still talking to Cole."

Not just that, how dare he watch me and then report back to me sister. The only reason I'm not furious is because it kind of has worked out better for me that he did tell Phoebe.

"I really like him!" She says defensively. "And I've just done a really, _really_ nice thing for you, so could we not spoil it by arguing about something we're clearly never going to agree on."

I observe her for a few moments and then nod.

"Fine. Subject dropped. For now."

"So…" Phoebe says slowly, grinning. "You stayed at his, huh? Where did you sleep? Did you do it?"

"_Phoebe_!" I exclaim, staring at her in disbelief.

"What?" She asks, innocently. "Well _did_ you?"

"_No_! God, do you always have to be so invasive?"

"I'm not invasive, I'm curious."

"_Sure_," I say sarcastically. "Anyway, we haven't even kissed yet."

I feel a little stupid admitting that to my fourteen year old sister, but I want to shut her up and show her that I'm not the kind of person she seems to think I am, and that it isn't necessary to jump on somebody the minute they express an interest just to get them to like you. Like, say, her and Cole, maybe.

"Oh," she says, looking surprised. "But what about after Homecoming?"

"Homecoming didn't exactly go to plan," I say pointedly.

Phoebe at least has the decency to blush.

"Sorry," she mutters. "That was probably partly my fault."

"_Partly_?"

"Okay, okay, a lot my fault," she concedes, rolling her eyes. "But if you hadn't been so _judgmental_ about everything-"

"I wasn't judgmental, I was _concerned_."

"_No_, you were trying to be like Mom. I don't need a mother, Prue, I need a sister."

"So I'm not allowed to look out for you now?" I question, trying not to show her how much her words just hurt.

"No, that's not what I said. Of course you can look out for me. I just don't need you telling me what I can and can't do. What I should and shouldn't be doing. You don't always know best, you know, and even if you do, let me make my own mistakes."

She's probably right. I have always tried to mother her. Part of it is typical older sister over protectiveness. I've made enough mistakes and it would be nice if I could protect her from making the same ones, even though realistically I know I can't shield her from everything life's going to throw at her. But a large part of it is me trying to make up for the fact that mom isn't here to do it for me. Phoebe doesn't understand and she never will understand the responsibility I feel towards her and Piper. Even if Grams hadn't made it quite clear that I have a duty towards my sisters I'd have felt it anyway. They're the only family I've got left and I love them more than anything, more than myself, no matter what I might say when I'm angry. I'd do anything for them. To that end I'm willing to sacrifice being a sister in order to sometimes be more of a mother to them and I don't care if it makes Phoebe angry. She's too young to understand.

"What about last night?"

"What about it?"

"Why did you go to his?"

I hesitate. Phoebe and I aren't the sharing secrets kind of sisters, but I get the feeling that this isn't going to stay secret for long.

"Tom…kind of made a drunken pass at me and I rejected him."

Phoebe frowns.

"I got really upset and I just didn't want to come home, alright? You know, Grams told me I couldn't go to that party but I went anyway and I felt like she was proven right and I just _knew_ that she'd know as soon as she looked at me what I'd done. And now Tom's going to tell everybody that I'm a bitch, or a slut, or stuck-up, I don't know which, but he's going to say _something_ because he was really angry. He's going to want to make me suffer."

Phoebe pulls a face.

"So what?" She says.

"So…what am I going to do?"

"Ditch him," she suggests as if that's a feasible option. "I never liked him anyway."

"I won't have to. I'll be the one nobody's talking to. Trust me. I know how it works."

"That's no great loss to _you_," she says. "It's _their_ loss if they want to believe whatever _he_ says over you."

"Thanks," I say, a little taken aback.

"And don't worry about Andy," Phoebe says, out of the blue.

"What do you mean?" I ask her cautiously.

"About having not kissed him yet. He obviously really likes you if he's still talking to you after all the things I said at Homecoming, and if he was willing to pick you up from a party on a Friday night just because you were upset."

"Yeah, maybe you're right," I agree. "Thanks, Pheebs."

It's not like the two of us to get on so well and it's a little strange, but it's kind of nice too. Phoebe's actually managed to make me feel a little better about everything for once, instead of worse.

"Well you should get changed," Phoebe announces briskly, jumping up from my bed and heading towards my door. "That uniform does _nothing_ for you."

I guess we've had enough sisterly bonding for today.

* * *

**Another Oasis song! Do you know what's really exciting? I have the next chapter totally written and ready to go. I just have to decide when to post it! And reviews are always welcome!  
**


	14. We Use To Be Friends

**Thank you for reviewing, Val and Sandy!**

**I really don't know if the middle part of this is incredibly dull or not, but it had to be written at some point and this was kind of a fitting point in the story for it. I apologize if it is unbearably dreary or this chapter is too long! I felt like it went on forever when I was writing it, even though I actually wrote it relatively quickly, but I didn't really want to cut it in half seeing as it's all part of the same day and general events.**

* * *

**We Used To Be Friends**

The atmosphere in homeroom changes as soon as I walk in. Tom's dumped his stuff on my chair and there are bags on my desk too, giving off a clear message: I'm not welcome.

I just roll my eyes and skirt around them, neatly stepping over Tom's foot, stuck out to trip me up, and purposely swing my bag in his direction, but unfortunately it doesn't hit him in his smarmy little face.

"Wow, you move on fast, don't you?" Tom drawls as I dump my bag by the desk in front of Andy's.

I glare at him witheringly. "What is that suppose to mean, Tom?" I ask calmly.

Lora stands up from her seat. "I can't believe you would do this, Prue!" She says very loudly, making everyone fall silent.

"Do what?" I say with a sigh. I am so not in the mood.

"Try it on with my boyfriend!" Lora yells, sounding slightly hysterical. "As if he'd want to have sex with you!"

"Yeah, he's got _you_ for that," I mutter under my breath, not caring if it's a low blow.

"_What_?" Lora demands, her face red with anger.

"Oh, so _that's_ what he told you…that _I_ tried it on with _him_. Funny that, I seem to remember it a little differently, and _I_ wasn't the one who was drunk."

I shoot Tom a pointed look, but he's leaning back confidently in his chair, smiling as he enjoys the show.

"That makes it even worse if you weren't drunk!" Sara, Lora's friend, spits, putting her arm comfortingly around Lora, who looks as if she's about to start crying, and scowling at me. "You totally knew you were making a pass at her boyfriend! You've been flirting with him for months."

I'm not in the mood for this. "Believe what you want," I say, sitting down. "But it was _Tom_ who made a pass at _me_."

Lora and Sara turn away in disgust, and Tom gives me a small smirk before looking away too, but several of the other cheerleaders, especially the ones who don't have boyfriends on the football team, give me small, nervous smiles. At least not _everyone_ hates me.

* * *

At lunch everybody at my usual table makes it _quite_ clear that I'm not welcome, not that I'd want to sit with any of them anyway. Lora's all over Tom, which I can't help but feel is for my benefit seeing as the second I walk into the cafeteria she drapes an arm around him and shoots me a furious look before kissing him, and it's sickening. I wouldn't have been able to stomach my lunch sitting with them anyway. Of course this leaves me with the dilemma of where to sit, one I solve by dumping my lunch tray down opposite Andy.

"Hi," I say as I sit down, like I always sit with him.

"Hi," he says, an amused smile on his lips. "How nice of you to join me for a change."

I ignore his sarcasm.

"Well this is nice, isn't it?" Andy says, a wry smile on his face.

"Oh yeah, it's great," I say, slumping down in my chair miserably. "Nothing like being a social pariah."

"Things will calm down. People will forget."

"Yeah," I agree, although I remain unconvinced that they will. I think he knows it too, but he doesn't want to make me feel any worse by pointing that out so he's chosen to lie about it instead.

"Anyway, you're not a total outcast. You've got me and your sisters."

I give him a look that clearly says I don't count three people, two of whom are related to me, as constituting enough friends to not be a total loser.

"Right," he mutters, shaking his head. "We don't count, do we?"

"You count," I protest. "Just…"

"Not as much as everybody else."

"No, that's not it. I just meant my sisters can hardly as friends, and having one friend that _isn't_ related to you…well, it hardly constitutes an active social life."

"Thanks. I feel really valued."

I hate how no matter what I'm trying to say it always seems to come out completely different to how it sounded in my head. It doesn't matter what it is, I manage to find the most insulting way of phrasing it so that the true meaning is completely lost, especially if it was something important I was trying to say. It's as if I'm incapable of being nice.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I don't mean things to come out like that, they just…do."

"I'd noticed."

"So when's your mom getting back from your aunt's?" I ask, to change the subject to something brighter than my rapidly dying social life and my apparent ineptness in _all_ social situations.

Frowning, he says, "I don't know. Why do you care?"

"Okay," I say slowly. "Sorry I asked."

Maybe the two of us just aren't capable of having a proper conversation. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. After all, nothing ever seems to go right and now I've said the wrong thing yet again.

After several moments of silence, he says, "No, I didn't mean to snap.

"My mom _is_ at her sister's," he says. "Just…it's not exactly the fun trip I made it out to be."

"What do you mean?" I ask carefully, not wanting to point out that he was so abrupt on the subject of his mother that he didn't paint the trip to his aunt's to be _anything_. He looks down at his lunch tray and begins slowly twisting the can of cola around for something to do. I watch silently, waiting for him to elaborate.

"She and my dad…I guess you could say they're kind of on a break."

"Oh."

He looks up.

"Aren't you going to ask why?"

"Why?" I ask automatically, not because I want to know, but because he so clearly wants to tell me.

"My mom…she kind of has a problem with drinking. I mean, I wouldn't say she's an alcoholic or anything, but when things get bad she just wants to forget them. It's like she wants to take a break from life, or something."

A break from life would be pretty nice right about now.

"Only that just makes things worse, not dealing with them, and all these things build up which makes her want to get away even more. I guess it's a vicious circle. But when somebody's been drinking it's hard to reason with them, so when my dad would try to tell her all of this she'd just get angrier. Moving here was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to change things, but it hasn't worked out that way. It wasn't the place that was wrong, it was her. Us. I don't know."

"I'm really sorry," I say. I don't know what else to say.

"She wasn't always like this," he says quickly, as if I've accused her of being a bad mother and he wants to speak in her defense. "It started after my grandmother died, but in recent years it's got a lot worse. It's like she doesn't know how to be happy anymore. They're not saying it right now, but I'm pretty sure they're going to get divorced."

"Do you still talk to her?" I ask.

"I just…I can't talk to her right now. I feel like I can't forgive her for this. It's too selfish of her. I want her to think about me. What I want. What I need. I want her to be able to stop for me, because I'm her son and that alone should be enough of a motivation. But she can't. Or won't."

"Parents are like that," I say. "They let you down."

He looks surprised at these words, as if he thought my parents' absence in my life meant I didn't feel let down by them ever.

"I had parents once," I point out, smiling.

"What happened to your parents?" He asks tentatively.

"My mom died when I was younger."

"Oh. I'm really sorry." He pauses, then asks, "Do you miss her?"

Usually when I tell people my mom died they look horrified, as if they've made some catastrophic social blunder, then hurriedly apologize and change the subject as swiftly as they can. I don't know if _they_ don't want to talk about it or if they think _I_ don't want to talk about it, maybe it's a bit of both, but either way nobody ever asks me about her.

"Yes," I whisper. "All the time."

"What was she like?"

I frown. That's a difficult question to answer, especially as I was so young when she died. I know what she was like as a mother but I don't really know what she was like as a person, other than second hand stories from Grams.

"She looked most like Phoebe," I say. "Or maybe Piper, I don't know…she was definitely most like Piper in terms of her personality."

"Not you?"

"No. Nothing like me."

Perhaps sensing that I don't want to answer that question, he asks, "What about your dad?"

It's unfortunate that he's hit on a topic even worse than how unlike my mother I am. I have to take a deep breath before I answer, to stop myself from snapping angrily.

"Gone," is all I manage to say.

"Gone where?"

"I don't know. I don't care. He left after Mom died. He knew we needed him and he left. As far as I'm concerned he's dead too."

If Andy's shocked by my harsh words then he does a good job of not showing it.

"Doesn't he ever call? Write?"

"No. Not really. He sent me a birthday card three years ago…but it was three months late, so I don't really count it. That's why you're lucky. At least you've got your dad, even if you haven't always got your mom, and he seems pretty reliable. He seems nice."

"Yeah, he is," Andy agrees.

"Actually, I'm pretty jealous of you and your dad," I admit.

"Thanks, I'll tell him you said that," Andy jokes, laughing.

"I think I've been embarrassed enough in front of him for now," I say, laughing too.

Over Andy's shoulder I can see Lora whispering something to Tom while looking right at me and smirking, but suddenly I find I don't care as much.

* * *

All I want to do when the final bell rings is go home and collapse onto my bed, or the sofa at the very least. I've never felt so exhausted from a day at school, despite all the pretending, all the faked smiles, all the high school drama and politics, all the cheerleading practices that made up my life until today. I don't just feel physically exhausted, I feel emotionally exhausted too, like I just can't go on pretending to be aloof and indifferent to all the whispers and snide remarks when inside I feel like I just want to burst into tears. Which is why I really, _really_ wish I didn't have practice after school. Not only do I not have the energy to toss other girls in the air and be tossed in the air while pretending to be full of pep and school spirit, which I'm really _not_ feeling right now by the way, but the people I have to throw up into the air and be thrown by are the very people I really _don't_ want to see or trust to catch me.

Everyone falls silent as I walk up. This is great. I mean how am I suppose to captain a team that isn't even a team anymore?

"Shall we just get started?" I say, deciding there's no point in beating around the bush.

"Prue," Lora says sweetly, stepping forward with a false smile on her face. "We've been talking-" She indicates the cheerleaders behind her, some of who look away from me. "-and we're not sure that you're the best captain for the squad anymore."

She has got to be kidding.

"Really," I say without any expression.

Lora continues to smile at me sweetly. "So we thought we'd do the democratic thing and have a vote to see what everyone thinks and who _should_ be captain."

"Let me guess," I say dryly. "You're the one hoping to be the new captain."

"I second that," says Kimberley from behind Lora.

"I don't _hope_, Prue," Lora says. "I get what I want."

I'm not going to argue with that. She lives in a massive house, and her parents spoil her rotten. The worst part of all this is that I was the one to elevate Lora to her position of power by telling Tom to ask her to Homecoming instead if me.

She turns to face the rest of the squad. "All in favor of _me_ becoming the new captain, raise their hand."

The half standing opposite Lora raise their hands immediately. A few of the others look a little reluctant and can't meet my eyes, but they too slowly raise their hands until it looks as if every hand is raised.

"And all in favor of _Prue_?" She asks, although that isn't necessary at all, she can see she's won. Not one hand goes up.

"Well then, it looks like that's settled," Lora says smugly.

I have two choices at this point. I can stay and let Lora treat me like a bitch, or I can leave. To be honest, I don't know what the point in staying is. Let them do their fucking routine without me.

"Okay," I say slowly. "I quit then." Lora and her supporters look like Christmas has come early.

"You know, that really is very immature, Prue," she calls after me in a sing song voice, and I raise my middle finger at her over my shoulder.

* * *

"You're home early," Piper says, coming out of the living room at the sound of me slamming the front door shut.

"Yeah," I say, hurling my stuff down. "I quit."

"You did _what_?" Piper says in disbelief. I walk past her into the living room.

"I quit cheerleading," I say witheringly. Quit isn't entirely accurate a description, it was more like I jumped before I was pushed, but who cares about little details like that?

"Wow, Prue!" Phoebe exclaims from the chair she's sprawled across. She sits up.

"But you love cheerleading," Piper says as I slump into the couch.

I scowl at the coffee table. "Not anymore."

Piper sits next to me. "What happened?" She asks.

"Lora made them all vote against me!" I wail, sounding like a small child who just got her favorite toy taken away.

"That bitch!" Phoebe shouts loudly. I take it Grams isn't home.

"Because of…" Piper trails off and turns red, and I shoot her a look.

"What have you heard?" I demand.

"Well only what everyone's saying," Piper says hurriedly, looking guilty.

"Which is?" I ask.

"About you and Tom and how-"

"Great," I cut in. "Even my own sister believes it. No wonder nobody voted for me to stay captain!"

"_Nobody_ voted?" Phoebe says with interest, looking up from a book I didn't notice she had before. Maybe Phoebe tries harder at school than she makes out.

"Gee Pheebs, you're really making me feel better here," I say sarcastically.

"Sorry," she says.

"I can't believe nobody voted for you," Piper murmurs from next to me.

"Piper!" I snap and she jumps, looking apologetic.

"Well I've told all my friends not to believe a word those _skanks_ say!" Phoebe announces. In the past I'd have been pissed with Phoebe for calling them skanks. In the past I was _one_ of those skanks, at least by association.

"Thanks Pheebs," I say, giving her a smile, or at least as much of one as I can manage.

"If I _had_ anyone to tell then I'd have told them not to believe them either," Piper says next to me, putting an arm around me. I hug her back.

"Thanks you guys," I say, feeling my eyes fill with tears despite myself. Phoebe jumps up and comes to join in. "I'm so lucky to have sisters like you two!" I declare, laughing through my tears.

"Damn right you are," Phoebe mutters.

* * *

**Yey for sisterly bonding! I want that in my life. As always, reviews are appreciated.  
**


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